Chapter Eleven.Outwitted by a Bandit.Early next morning Pedro went round and quietly roused his friends.“We must start at once,” he said in a low voice to Lawrence, when the wearied youth was sufficiently awake to understand. “Your wounded arm is better, I hope?”“It is only stiff and painful; happily, no bones are injured. But why such haste? I don’t like to leave my poor patients in this fashion.”“Will any of them die if you don’t stay to nurse them?” asked the guide, with a grave, almost stern, expression.“Why, no; not exactly,” returned Lawrence; “but many of them will want their wounds dressed, and all of them will be the better for a little more skilled attendance.”“Will they not survive under ordinary attendance?” asked Pedro, with increasing severity of expression.“Doubtless they will, but—”“Would you like,” interrupted the inflexible guide, “to have them all roused up at this early hour to hear a little farewell speech from you, explaining the absolute necessity for your going away, and your extreme regret at leaving them?”“Not if there is such necessity,” returned Lawrence, yawning, and raising himself on one elbow.“Thereissuch necessity, senhor. I have been down to the village where my friend lives, and have got fresh horses. Manuela and Quashy are already mounted. I let you sleep to the last moment, seeing you were so tired. Don’t forget your pistols; you may need them.”Without waiting for a reply, he rose and left the room. The young doctor hesitated no longer. Regret at quitting the poor people around him was overborne by the fear of being left behind, for he had by that time begun to entertain a vague suspicion that the stern and peculiar man by whom he was led would not permit any object whatever to stand in the way of what he believed to be his duty.In a few seconds he issued from the hut, armed with his pair of double-barrelled pistols and the faithful cudgel. The cavalry sabre, however, had been lost, not much to his regret.The grey light of dawn was just sufficient to give a ghostly appearance to what may be truly termed the ghastly ruins around them, and to reveal in undefined solemnity the neighbouring mountains. Smoke still issued from the half-smothered fires, and here and there a spectral figure might be seen flitting silently to and fro. But all was profoundly still and quiet, even the occasional tremors of the earth had ceased for a time, when they issued from the enclosure of the hut.Without speaking, Lawrence mounted the horse which stood ready for him, and they all rode silently away, picking their steps with great care through the upheaved and obstructed streets. It was a scene of absolute and utter ruin, which Lawrence felt could never be effaced from his memory, but must remain there burned in deeply, in its minutest details, to the end of time.When they had passed the suburbs, however, and reached the country beyond, the depressing influences passed away, and, a certain degree of cheerfulness returning with the sun, they began to chat and to explain to each other their various experiences.“Of course, when I felt the earthquake,” said Pedro to Lawrence, “I knew that, although little damage was done to the village to which I had gone in search of my friends, it must have been very severe on the town with its spires and public buildings; so I saddled up at once, and set off on my return. I met Quashy just as I left the village, and we both spurred back as fast as we could. When we came in sight of it, we saw at once that the place was destroyed, but, until we reached it, had no idea of the completeness of the destruction. We could not even find the road that led to the inn where we had left you and Manuela; and it was not till the following morning that we found the inn itself, and came up, as you know, just in time to help you, though we had sought diligently all night.”“Das so, massa,” broke in Quashy, who had listened with glittering eyes to Pedro’s narrative, which of course was much more extended and full, “an’ you’s got no notion how we’s banged about our poor shins among dese ruins afore we founded you. S’my b’lief but for de fires we’d nebber hab founded you at all. And dem scoundrils—oh! dem scoundrils—”Quashy’s feelings at this point failed to find vent in words sufficiently expressive, so he relieved them to some extent by shaking his fist at scoundreldom in general, and grinding his teeth. No words could have expressed his feelings half so well. By way of changing a subject that appeared to be almost too much for him, he turned abruptly to the Indian girl; and said, in Spanish quite as bad as that of Lawrence—“But where wereyou, senhorina, all the time?”“Ay, Manuela, let’s hear how it was that you escaped,” said Pedro quickly, in Indian.“I escaped through the mercy of God,” replied the girl, in a low voice.“True, Manuela, true,” replied the guide, “you never said a truer word than that; but by what means was His mercy displayed?”“I can scarcely tell,” returned the girl; “when the earthquake came I was sitting on my bed. Then the wall of the room seemed to fall on me, and my senses were gone. How long I lay so, I cannot tell. When I recovered my mind I felt as if buried alive, but I could breathe, and although unable to rise, I could move. Then I heard cries, and I replied; but my strength was gone, and I think no one heard me. Then I prayed, and then, I think, I slept, but am not sure. At last I heard a spade striking the earth above me. Soon an opening was made, and I was dragged rudely out. The rest you know.”On this being interpreted to her companions, Quashy gave it as his decided opinion that a miracle had been performed for her special deliverance; but Lawrence thought that, without miraculous interference, God had caused a mass of wall to fall over and protect her in much the same way that he himself had been protected.While they were talking thus, and slowly descending one of the numerous richly-wooded, though rugged, paths which traverse the lower slopes of the Andes, they encountered a party of horsemen from the Pampas. They were well-armed, and from their looks might have been another troop of banditti, coming like human vultures from afar to swoop down on the carcass of the unfortunate town.To have shown the slightest hesitancy or fear—supposing them to have been what they looked—would have been to invite attack, but, as the reader knows, our travellers were not the men to betray themselves thus. Before starting, they had carefully examined their weapons, and had bestowed them about their persons somewhat ostentatiously. Pedro had even caused Manuela to stick a brace of small pistols and a large knife in her belt; and, as Indian women are sometimes known to be capable of defending themselves as vigorously as men, she was by no means a cipher in the effective strength of the party.With a dignified yet free-and-easy air that would have done credit to a Spanish Don of the olden time, Pedro saluted the party as he rode past. His aspect, and the quiet, self-possessed air of the huge Englishman, with the singularity of his cudgel, coupled with the look of graceful decision about the Indian maiden, and the blunt bull-doggedness of the square negro, were sufficient to ensure a polite response, not only from that party, but from several other bands of the same stamp that were met with during the day.Diverging from the main road in order to avoid these bands, they followed a track well-known to the guide. Towards the afternoon, from the top of a rising ground, they descried a solitary foot traveller wending his way wearily up the hill.He was a man of middle age, and powerfully-built, but walked with such evident difficulty that it seemed as if he were either ill or exhausted. Pedro eyed him with considerable suspicion as he approached. In passing, he begged for assistance. As he spoke in French, Lawrence, whose sympathies, like those of Quashy, were easily roused, asked in that tongue what was the matter with him.He had been robbed, he said, by that villainous bandit, Conrad of the Mountains, or some one extremely like him, and had been nearly killed by him. He was on his way to San Ambrosio, where his wife and family dwelt, having heard that it had been greatly damaged, if not destroyed, by an earthquake.“It has been utterly destroyed, my poor fellow,” said Lawrence, in a tone of pity; “but it may be that your family has escaped. A good number of people have escaped. Here are a few dollars for you. You will need them, I fear. You can owe them to me, and pay them when next we meet.”The gift was accompanied with a look of pleasantry, for Lawrence well knew there was little chance of their ever meeting again.Pedro sat regarding them with a grim smile. “You are a stout fellow,” he said, in a tone that was not conciliatory, after the beggar had accepted the dollars with many expressions of gratitude; “from all I have heard of Conrad of the Mountains, you are quite a match for him, if he were alone.”“He was not alone, senhor,” replied the beggar, with a look that told of a temper easily disturbed.To this Pedro replied contemptuously, “Oh, indeed!” and, turning abruptly away, rode on.“You doubt that man?” said Lawrence, following him.“I do.”“He looked honest.”“Men are not always to be judged by their looks.”“Das a fact!” interposed Quashy; “what would peepil judge obme, now, if dey hoed by looks?”“They’d say you were a fine, genial, hearty, good-natured blockhead,” said Lawrence, laughing.“True, massa, you’s right. I’m all dat an’ wuss, but notalwaysdat. Sometimes I’m roused; an’ I’mawrfulw’en I’m roused! You should see me w’en my back’s riz. Ohmy!”The negro opened his eyes and mouth so awfully at the mere idea of such a rising that his companions were fain to seek relief in laughter. Even the grave Manuela gave way to unrestrained merriment, for if she failed to thoroughly understand Quashy’s meaning, she quite understood his face.That night they found welcome shelter in a small farm.“Did you fall in with the notorious bandit, Conrad of the Mountains?” asked their host, after the ceremonious reception of his guests was over.“No, senhor,” answered Pedro. “Is that fellow in this neighbourhood just now?”“So it is said, senhor. I have not seen him myself, and should not know him if I saw him, but from descriptions I should think it must be he. I have a poor fellow—a peon—lying here just now, who has been robbed and nearly murdered by him. Come, he is in the next room; you can speak to him.”Saying this, the host introduced Pedro and Lawrence into an inner chamber, where the wounded man lay, groaning horribly. He was very ready, indeed eager, to give all the information in his power. Fear had evidently given the poor fellow an exaggerated idea of the appearance of the man who had waylaid him; nevertheless, from his description our travellers had no difficulty in recognising the poor bereaved beggar whom they had met and assisted.“Was he a large man?” asked Pedro.“Yes, yes, senhor; tremendous!—seven feet or more, andso”—indicating about three feet—“across the shoulders. Rough black head, huge black beard and moustache, hawk nose, with such awful eyes, and the strength of a tiger! I could never have been so easily overcome by one man if he had not been a giant.”“You see,” said Pedro in English, turning to Lawrence with a smile, “the description tallies exactly, making due allowance for this poor fellow’s alarm. He must be a clever fellow this Conrad of the Mountains, for he has not only frightened a peon out of his wits, but roused the pity of an Englishman by asserting that he had been robbed byhimself! Your charity, you see, was ill bestowed.”“So, it seems we might have made this noted bandit prisoner if we had only known!” exclaimed Lawrence, who seemed more distressed at missing the chance of becoming an amateur thief-catcher than at misdirected charity. “But do you really think the fellow was Conrad of the Mountains?”“I am certain he was not,” said Pedro.“How do you know?”“I have several grounds for my belief, but, even if I had not, I might easily judge from appearances. Conrad is said to be kind to women and children. The scoundrel we met with could not be kind to any one. Moreover, there is no clear proof that Conradisa bandit, while this man certainly is one.”“I’m sorry you seem so sure, because I should like much to be able to say I had seen this notorious fellow about whom every one appears to hear so much and to know so little.”Although the bandit of whom we have just made mention was not Conrad of the Mountains, it may interest the reader to know that he was in truth a sufficiently notorious villain, named Fan, the captain of a band of twenty assassins, most of whom were escaped criminals from the prisons of Chili and Peru. Among other exploits, Fan once attacked the armed escort of a troop of mules conveying silver in bars from the mines to Chili. Fan and his men attacked them in a ravine so suddenly, and with such a deadly fire of musketry, that the few who survived laid down their arms at once, on the promise being made that their lives should be spared.Banditti do not usually regard promises as binding. It would be surprising if they did. Fan made the survivors lie down on their faces, and was about to plunder the mules, when he changed his mind, and shot all the rest of the convoy in cold blood, except the last, who, seeing the fate that awaited him, leaped over a precipice, rolled down a steep slope many hundred feet deep, and, strange to say, escaped with his life. He then procured a dozen or two well-armed men, and returned to the scene of the robbery, but found that the robbers had flown with as much silver as they could carry, the remainder being scattered about on the road.These miscreants were afterwards captured, but, owing to disputes between the Peruvian and the Chilian Governments, the former of whom had hold of, while the latter claimed, the robbers, they all escaped their merited punishment, and were set at large.
Early next morning Pedro went round and quietly roused his friends.
“We must start at once,” he said in a low voice to Lawrence, when the wearied youth was sufficiently awake to understand. “Your wounded arm is better, I hope?”
“It is only stiff and painful; happily, no bones are injured. But why such haste? I don’t like to leave my poor patients in this fashion.”
“Will any of them die if you don’t stay to nurse them?” asked the guide, with a grave, almost stern, expression.
“Why, no; not exactly,” returned Lawrence; “but many of them will want their wounds dressed, and all of them will be the better for a little more skilled attendance.”
“Will they not survive under ordinary attendance?” asked Pedro, with increasing severity of expression.
“Doubtless they will, but—”
“Would you like,” interrupted the inflexible guide, “to have them all roused up at this early hour to hear a little farewell speech from you, explaining the absolute necessity for your going away, and your extreme regret at leaving them?”
“Not if there is such necessity,” returned Lawrence, yawning, and raising himself on one elbow.
“Thereissuch necessity, senhor. I have been down to the village where my friend lives, and have got fresh horses. Manuela and Quashy are already mounted. I let you sleep to the last moment, seeing you were so tired. Don’t forget your pistols; you may need them.”
Without waiting for a reply, he rose and left the room. The young doctor hesitated no longer. Regret at quitting the poor people around him was overborne by the fear of being left behind, for he had by that time begun to entertain a vague suspicion that the stern and peculiar man by whom he was led would not permit any object whatever to stand in the way of what he believed to be his duty.
In a few seconds he issued from the hut, armed with his pair of double-barrelled pistols and the faithful cudgel. The cavalry sabre, however, had been lost, not much to his regret.
The grey light of dawn was just sufficient to give a ghostly appearance to what may be truly termed the ghastly ruins around them, and to reveal in undefined solemnity the neighbouring mountains. Smoke still issued from the half-smothered fires, and here and there a spectral figure might be seen flitting silently to and fro. But all was profoundly still and quiet, even the occasional tremors of the earth had ceased for a time, when they issued from the enclosure of the hut.
Without speaking, Lawrence mounted the horse which stood ready for him, and they all rode silently away, picking their steps with great care through the upheaved and obstructed streets. It was a scene of absolute and utter ruin, which Lawrence felt could never be effaced from his memory, but must remain there burned in deeply, in its minutest details, to the end of time.
When they had passed the suburbs, however, and reached the country beyond, the depressing influences passed away, and, a certain degree of cheerfulness returning with the sun, they began to chat and to explain to each other their various experiences.
“Of course, when I felt the earthquake,” said Pedro to Lawrence, “I knew that, although little damage was done to the village to which I had gone in search of my friends, it must have been very severe on the town with its spires and public buildings; so I saddled up at once, and set off on my return. I met Quashy just as I left the village, and we both spurred back as fast as we could. When we came in sight of it, we saw at once that the place was destroyed, but, until we reached it, had no idea of the completeness of the destruction. We could not even find the road that led to the inn where we had left you and Manuela; and it was not till the following morning that we found the inn itself, and came up, as you know, just in time to help you, though we had sought diligently all night.”
“Das so, massa,” broke in Quashy, who had listened with glittering eyes to Pedro’s narrative, which of course was much more extended and full, “an’ you’s got no notion how we’s banged about our poor shins among dese ruins afore we founded you. S’my b’lief but for de fires we’d nebber hab founded you at all. And dem scoundrils—oh! dem scoundrils—”
Quashy’s feelings at this point failed to find vent in words sufficiently expressive, so he relieved them to some extent by shaking his fist at scoundreldom in general, and grinding his teeth. No words could have expressed his feelings half so well. By way of changing a subject that appeared to be almost too much for him, he turned abruptly to the Indian girl; and said, in Spanish quite as bad as that of Lawrence—
“But where wereyou, senhorina, all the time?”
“Ay, Manuela, let’s hear how it was that you escaped,” said Pedro quickly, in Indian.
“I escaped through the mercy of God,” replied the girl, in a low voice.
“True, Manuela, true,” replied the guide, “you never said a truer word than that; but by what means was His mercy displayed?”
“I can scarcely tell,” returned the girl; “when the earthquake came I was sitting on my bed. Then the wall of the room seemed to fall on me, and my senses were gone. How long I lay so, I cannot tell. When I recovered my mind I felt as if buried alive, but I could breathe, and although unable to rise, I could move. Then I heard cries, and I replied; but my strength was gone, and I think no one heard me. Then I prayed, and then, I think, I slept, but am not sure. At last I heard a spade striking the earth above me. Soon an opening was made, and I was dragged rudely out. The rest you know.”
On this being interpreted to her companions, Quashy gave it as his decided opinion that a miracle had been performed for her special deliverance; but Lawrence thought that, without miraculous interference, God had caused a mass of wall to fall over and protect her in much the same way that he himself had been protected.
While they were talking thus, and slowly descending one of the numerous richly-wooded, though rugged, paths which traverse the lower slopes of the Andes, they encountered a party of horsemen from the Pampas. They were well-armed, and from their looks might have been another troop of banditti, coming like human vultures from afar to swoop down on the carcass of the unfortunate town.
To have shown the slightest hesitancy or fear—supposing them to have been what they looked—would have been to invite attack, but, as the reader knows, our travellers were not the men to betray themselves thus. Before starting, they had carefully examined their weapons, and had bestowed them about their persons somewhat ostentatiously. Pedro had even caused Manuela to stick a brace of small pistols and a large knife in her belt; and, as Indian women are sometimes known to be capable of defending themselves as vigorously as men, she was by no means a cipher in the effective strength of the party.
With a dignified yet free-and-easy air that would have done credit to a Spanish Don of the olden time, Pedro saluted the party as he rode past. His aspect, and the quiet, self-possessed air of the huge Englishman, with the singularity of his cudgel, coupled with the look of graceful decision about the Indian maiden, and the blunt bull-doggedness of the square negro, were sufficient to ensure a polite response, not only from that party, but from several other bands of the same stamp that were met with during the day.
Diverging from the main road in order to avoid these bands, they followed a track well-known to the guide. Towards the afternoon, from the top of a rising ground, they descried a solitary foot traveller wending his way wearily up the hill.
He was a man of middle age, and powerfully-built, but walked with such evident difficulty that it seemed as if he were either ill or exhausted. Pedro eyed him with considerable suspicion as he approached. In passing, he begged for assistance. As he spoke in French, Lawrence, whose sympathies, like those of Quashy, were easily roused, asked in that tongue what was the matter with him.
He had been robbed, he said, by that villainous bandit, Conrad of the Mountains, or some one extremely like him, and had been nearly killed by him. He was on his way to San Ambrosio, where his wife and family dwelt, having heard that it had been greatly damaged, if not destroyed, by an earthquake.
“It has been utterly destroyed, my poor fellow,” said Lawrence, in a tone of pity; “but it may be that your family has escaped. A good number of people have escaped. Here are a few dollars for you. You will need them, I fear. You can owe them to me, and pay them when next we meet.”
The gift was accompanied with a look of pleasantry, for Lawrence well knew there was little chance of their ever meeting again.
Pedro sat regarding them with a grim smile. “You are a stout fellow,” he said, in a tone that was not conciliatory, after the beggar had accepted the dollars with many expressions of gratitude; “from all I have heard of Conrad of the Mountains, you are quite a match for him, if he were alone.”
“He was not alone, senhor,” replied the beggar, with a look that told of a temper easily disturbed.
To this Pedro replied contemptuously, “Oh, indeed!” and, turning abruptly away, rode on.
“You doubt that man?” said Lawrence, following him.
“I do.”
“He looked honest.”
“Men are not always to be judged by their looks.”
“Das a fact!” interposed Quashy; “what would peepil judge obme, now, if dey hoed by looks?”
“They’d say you were a fine, genial, hearty, good-natured blockhead,” said Lawrence, laughing.
“True, massa, you’s right. I’m all dat an’ wuss, but notalwaysdat. Sometimes I’m roused; an’ I’mawrfulw’en I’m roused! You should see me w’en my back’s riz. Ohmy!”
The negro opened his eyes and mouth so awfully at the mere idea of such a rising that his companions were fain to seek relief in laughter. Even the grave Manuela gave way to unrestrained merriment, for if she failed to thoroughly understand Quashy’s meaning, she quite understood his face.
That night they found welcome shelter in a small farm.
“Did you fall in with the notorious bandit, Conrad of the Mountains?” asked their host, after the ceremonious reception of his guests was over.
“No, senhor,” answered Pedro. “Is that fellow in this neighbourhood just now?”
“So it is said, senhor. I have not seen him myself, and should not know him if I saw him, but from descriptions I should think it must be he. I have a poor fellow—a peon—lying here just now, who has been robbed and nearly murdered by him. Come, he is in the next room; you can speak to him.”
Saying this, the host introduced Pedro and Lawrence into an inner chamber, where the wounded man lay, groaning horribly. He was very ready, indeed eager, to give all the information in his power. Fear had evidently given the poor fellow an exaggerated idea of the appearance of the man who had waylaid him; nevertheless, from his description our travellers had no difficulty in recognising the poor bereaved beggar whom they had met and assisted.
“Was he a large man?” asked Pedro.
“Yes, yes, senhor; tremendous!—seven feet or more, andso”—indicating about three feet—“across the shoulders. Rough black head, huge black beard and moustache, hawk nose, with such awful eyes, and the strength of a tiger! I could never have been so easily overcome by one man if he had not been a giant.”
“You see,” said Pedro in English, turning to Lawrence with a smile, “the description tallies exactly, making due allowance for this poor fellow’s alarm. He must be a clever fellow this Conrad of the Mountains, for he has not only frightened a peon out of his wits, but roused the pity of an Englishman by asserting that he had been robbed byhimself! Your charity, you see, was ill bestowed.”
“So, it seems we might have made this noted bandit prisoner if we had only known!” exclaimed Lawrence, who seemed more distressed at missing the chance of becoming an amateur thief-catcher than at misdirected charity. “But do you really think the fellow was Conrad of the Mountains?”
“I am certain he was not,” said Pedro.
“How do you know?”
“I have several grounds for my belief, but, even if I had not, I might easily judge from appearances. Conrad is said to be kind to women and children. The scoundrel we met with could not be kind to any one. Moreover, there is no clear proof that Conradisa bandit, while this man certainly is one.”
“I’m sorry you seem so sure, because I should like much to be able to say I had seen this notorious fellow about whom every one appears to hear so much and to know so little.”
Although the bandit of whom we have just made mention was not Conrad of the Mountains, it may interest the reader to know that he was in truth a sufficiently notorious villain, named Fan, the captain of a band of twenty assassins, most of whom were escaped criminals from the prisons of Chili and Peru. Among other exploits, Fan once attacked the armed escort of a troop of mules conveying silver in bars from the mines to Chili. Fan and his men attacked them in a ravine so suddenly, and with such a deadly fire of musketry, that the few who survived laid down their arms at once, on the promise being made that their lives should be spared.
Banditti do not usually regard promises as binding. It would be surprising if they did. Fan made the survivors lie down on their faces, and was about to plunder the mules, when he changed his mind, and shot all the rest of the convoy in cold blood, except the last, who, seeing the fate that awaited him, leaped over a precipice, rolled down a steep slope many hundred feet deep, and, strange to say, escaped with his life. He then procured a dozen or two well-armed men, and returned to the scene of the robbery, but found that the robbers had flown with as much silver as they could carry, the remainder being scattered about on the road.
These miscreants were afterwards captured, but, owing to disputes between the Peruvian and the Chilian Governments, the former of whom had hold of, while the latter claimed, the robbers, they all escaped their merited punishment, and were set at large.
Chapter Twelve.Thick Woods, Heat, Change of Scene, and Savages.We must change the scene now, and transport our reader to one of those numerous streams which convey the surplus waters of the Andes to the warmer regions of Bolivia, and thence, through many a wild, luxuriant wilderness and jungle, to the Parana river, by which they ultimately find their way to the sea.It was approaching the afternoon of a very sultry day when Lawrence awoke from his midday siesta under an algaroba-tree, and slowly opened his eyes. The first object they rested upon was the brown little face of Manuela, reposing on a pillow formed of leopard skin. In those regions it was the practice, when convenient, to sling a network hammock between two trees, and enjoy one’s siesta in that. The Indian girl lay in her hammock, with her eyes shut, and her little mouth open,—not undignifiedly open, but just sufficiently so to permit of one seeing something of the teeth and tongue inside.Fascinated apparently by the sight, a mite of a blue-bird with a golden head sat on the edge of the hammock close to the little mouth, and looked in. Evidently it was a bird of an inquiring disposition, for, having gazed for a considerable time with one eye, it turned its head, and gazed a longer time with the other. Quashy lay close to Lawrence, with his back towards him. The latter, observing that the cheek of the former was more lumpy and prominent than usual, raised himself on one elbow to look at him, and found that the lump was the result of an expansion of the mouth from ear to ear. He was wide awake, gloating over the proceedings of that little blue-bird, but he heard Lawrence move, and turning his head slightly round, whispered—“Dat am berry funny—i’n’t it?”The whisper slightly roused Manuela. She drew a long breath, vented a deep sigh, and effectually blew the blue-bird away.At the same moment the whole party was roused by a wild and indescribable scream, followed by a magnificent flash of what seemed to be coloured fire.In his half-sleeping condition, Lawrence, believing it to be the war-whoop of wild Indians, leaped up and grasped his cudgel, but nothing was to be seen save the grinning face of Quashy and the amused looks of Manuela and Pedro.“Purrits,” remarked the negro, by way of explanation.“What do you mean by purrits?” demanded Lawrence, half ashamed of his alarm.“I mean what I says, massa,—purrits.”“He means parrots,” said Pedro, with a grave smile, as he rose, and proceeded to fold up the poncho on which he had lain. “We’ve had many a song from these screamers, but I don’t remember ever seeing such a big flock come so near us, or scream so loud, before. They must have been attracted by your pretty face, Manuela, and could not help shouting with surprise at finding you asleep.”Manuela laughed lightly as she stepped out of her hammock.“They’ve just roused us in good time,” continued Pedro, looking up between the tree-tops at the sky, “for the hut of the tiger-hunter is a long way off, and I’m anxious to reach it before dark.”In a few minutes the hammock and other camp equipage was conveyed to one of the native canoes, which lay close to the river’s bank, our travellers embarked, and ere long were far from the spot where the siesta had been taken.In the afternoon they stopped for a little to refresh themselves with roasted parrot, chocolate, and biscuit.Parrots are found everywhere and in great numbers in those regions between the Atlantic and Pacific. They live and travel in large flocks, and, as every one knows, they are remarkably fond of using their discordant voices, much to the annoyance of sensitive travellers. Fortunately such travellers do not often go to the wild regions of South America,—when they do, they soon become un-sensitive. When parrots assemble in a flock on the trees, they keep fluttering their wings with a tremulous motion, bending down their heads and chattering, young and old, without regard to each other or to harmony. Each seems bent on giving his own opinion in the loudest key, and pays no regard whatever to the opinions of others. There is something almost human in this!It is a curious fact that, while the plumage of the parrots’ breasts is always gaudy and brilliant in the extreme, that of their backs is usually the colour of the general tone of the region they inhabit. In woods, where the bark of trees is chiefly bright yellow and green, their backs are of these colours. In the plains they are a mixture of green and brown, so that when skimming over a country they are not easily distinguished, but if they chance to come unexpectedly on travellers, they sheer off with a shriek, and expose their gaudy breasts to view.The large flock that had so suddenly come on our friends while taking their siesta had turned off thus with a horrible scream, and revealed their gay breasts, on which the sun chanced to shine at the moment with great power, thus producing, as we have said, a splendid flash of colour.“Massa,” inquired Quashy, as they sat in the canoe enjoying the cold meal and floating slowly with the stream, “which you likes best,—ros’ purrit or ros’ monkey?”“Really, I’m not quite sure,” replied Lawrence; “it depends very much on appetite. If I’m very hungry, I prefer the one that comes first to hand. Which doyoulike best?”“Well, I’s not kite sure needer. I t’ink sometimes dat monkey is best, but I can’t easy git ober de face.”“How so, Quashy?”“’Cause it am so like eatin’ a bit o’ my great-gran’moder.”“Indeed!”“Yes. You’s no notion how like dey all is to dat ole lady. You see, she was uncommon old. She come ob a long-lib race. Das whar’ it is. My moder was eighty-two, an’ my gran’moder was ninety-siven, an’ my great-gran’moder was a hun’r’d an’ sixteen, an’ dey was all alive togidder, an’ at fuss you couldn’ tell which was de oldest. Dey run neck an’ neck for a long time, but arter de great-gran’ one pass de hunr’ milestone—oh! she hoed ahead like a rattlesnake. De wrinkles an’ de crows’ foots, an’ de—de colour—jes’ like bu’nt leather! She lef’ de oders far behind, an’ looked like nuffin so much as dat poor little blear-eyed monkey you shot de oder day, what Senhorina Manuela say wassonice to eat. What! you un’erstan’ Ingliss?” added the negro, looking at the Indian girl, who had given vent to a half-suppressed giggle.“Yes—leetil,” replied Manuela, without attempting further to restrain her mirth.Quite pleased that his remarks should afford amusement, Quashy was about to launch out extensively on the “great-gran’moder” theme, when an exclamation from the guide checked him.“Look, Senhor Armstrong,” he said, arresting the progress of the canoe by a slight turn of his paddle. “Yonder is a mode of fishing which no doubt is new to you.”Pedro pointed as he spoke to a canoe which a sharp bend of the stream had just revealed to them. Its occupants were Indians. They were almost naked, and so intent on their occupation that the arrival of our travellers had not been observed. One of the Indians, a splendid specimen of muscular strength, stood up in the canoe with a bow and arrow in his hands and one foot on the gunwale, quite motionless. Suddenly he drew the bow, the arrow pierced the water without causing a ripple, and next moment a transfixed fish was struggling on the surface.The fish was barely secured when the presence of strangers was discovered. An exclamation followed. Instantly the dark savage bent his bow, with the arrow pointed this time full at the breast of Pedro.That worthy did not, however, seem much alarmed. He at once pushed out into the stream, and gave a shout which induced the savage not only to lower his bow, but to fling it into his canoe and throw up his arms with exclamations of surprise and joy.“He knows you?” said Lawrence, looking back at Pedro, who sat in the stern of their canoe.“Yes, he knows me. I am pretty well-known to most people in these regions. This is the tiger-hunter of whom I have spoken. His dwelling is not far-off.”The meeting of the two friends was remarkably cordial, and it was evident to both Lawrence and Quashy that the white man and the brown were not only old friends, but more than usually fond of each other.After the first salutations, both canoes were run to the bank of the stream, and when they had all landed, Pedro presented his friend to Lawrence, who shook hands with him in the English fashion.“You have not mentioned your friend’s name,” said Lawrence.“His name!” replied Pedro, with a laugh, “well, it is almost unpronounceable. Perhaps you had better call him by the name he goes by among his friends—Spotted Tiger, or, more briefly—Tiger.”“Tell Spotted Tiger, then,” said Lawrence, “that I am happy to make his acquaintance.”When the guide had translated this, and the Indian had returned a complimentary rejoinder, they continued to converse in the Indian tongue with much animation, and, on the part of Spotted Tiger, with some excitement. Of course Lawrence understood nothing, but he continued to watch the expressive features of the savage with interest, and observed, when their glances showed they were talking of Manuela, that Tiger first raised his eyebrows in surprise, and then smiled peculiarly.“Strange,” thought Lawrence, “what can he mean by that? Perhaps he knows the chief, her father, but why look surprised and smile on that account? I wish Pedro was not so secretive. However, it’s his business, not mine!”Consoling himself with this philosophic thought, Lawrence re-embarked with his friends, and, accompanied by Tiger, proceeded down stream till they came to a beautiful spot where the banks widened out into a small lake or pond. On its shores, under the cool shade of many trees, stood the hut of the savage.The scenery here was more than usually beautiful, being diversified not only in form, but in its wealth and variety of trees, and twining parasites and graceful ferns, with, in one place, groves of tall trees covered with balls of wild cotton, as large as an orange, and, elsewhere, inextricable entanglements of gorgeously flowering creepers, such as the most vivid imagination would fail to invent or conceive. Behind one part of the scene the setting sun shone with intense light, turning all into dark forms, while in other parts the slanting rays fell upon masses of rich foliage, and intensified its colour.In front of the hut a handsome Indian woman stood awaiting the arrival of her husband. She held in her arms a naked little ball of whitey-brown fat, which represented the youngest Tiger-cub of the family. Other cubs, less whitey, and more brown, romped around, while up in the trees several remembrancers of Quashy’s great-great-grandmother sat grinning with delight, if not indignation, at the human beings below.After being hospitably entertained by the Indian with fish, alligator soup, roast parrot, and young monkey, the party assembled round a fire, kindled outside the hut more for the purpose of scaring away wild beasts than cooking, though the little Tiger-cubs used it for the latter purpose.Then Pedro said to Lawrence—“Now, Senhor Armstrong, I am going to ask you to exercise a little patience at this point in our journey. The business I have in hand requires that I should leave you for two or three days. I fully expect to be back by the end of that time, and meanwhile I leave you and Quashy and Manuela in good company, for my friend Spotted Tiger is true as steel, though heisan Indian, and will perhaps show you a little sport to prevent your wearying.”“Very good, Pedro. I am quite willing to wait,” said Lawrence. “You know I am not pressed for time at present. I shall be very glad to remain and see what is to be seen here, and learn Spanish from Manuela.”“Or teach her Angleesh,” suggested the girl, bashfully.“Certainly. Whichever pleases you best, Manuela,” returned Lawrence.“But s’pose,” said Quashy, with a look of awful solemnity at Pedro—“s’pose you nebber comes back at all! S’pose you gits drownded, or killed by a tiger, or shot by a Injin. What den?”“Suppose,” retorted the guide, “that an earthquake should swallow up South America, or that the world should catch fire—what then?”“Why den, we no care a buttin for not’ing arterdat,” replied the negro, promptly, “but if you don’ return, we nebber reach Buenos Ayres.”“Never fear, Quashy. If I don’t return, Spotted Tiger will guide you safely there.”That night Pedro and his friend left the hut in a canoe, lighted by a brilliant moon. Before morning the latter returned alone.Meanwhile Lawrence had slung Manuela’s hammock between two trees, with a fire on either side, yet screened from the chief camp-fire by a thick bush, so that though close at hand, and under his protection, she occupied, as it were, a separate chamber of her own. His own hammock and that of Quashy—for they all used hammocks—were hung side by side a little nearer to the large fire.Mr and Mrs Tiger, with all the little Tigers, finding their hut rather warm, came outside, and also made their beds beside their visitors.
We must change the scene now, and transport our reader to one of those numerous streams which convey the surplus waters of the Andes to the warmer regions of Bolivia, and thence, through many a wild, luxuriant wilderness and jungle, to the Parana river, by which they ultimately find their way to the sea.
It was approaching the afternoon of a very sultry day when Lawrence awoke from his midday siesta under an algaroba-tree, and slowly opened his eyes. The first object they rested upon was the brown little face of Manuela, reposing on a pillow formed of leopard skin. In those regions it was the practice, when convenient, to sling a network hammock between two trees, and enjoy one’s siesta in that. The Indian girl lay in her hammock, with her eyes shut, and her little mouth open,—not undignifiedly open, but just sufficiently so to permit of one seeing something of the teeth and tongue inside.
Fascinated apparently by the sight, a mite of a blue-bird with a golden head sat on the edge of the hammock close to the little mouth, and looked in. Evidently it was a bird of an inquiring disposition, for, having gazed for a considerable time with one eye, it turned its head, and gazed a longer time with the other. Quashy lay close to Lawrence, with his back towards him. The latter, observing that the cheek of the former was more lumpy and prominent than usual, raised himself on one elbow to look at him, and found that the lump was the result of an expansion of the mouth from ear to ear. He was wide awake, gloating over the proceedings of that little blue-bird, but he heard Lawrence move, and turning his head slightly round, whispered—
“Dat am berry funny—i’n’t it?”
The whisper slightly roused Manuela. She drew a long breath, vented a deep sigh, and effectually blew the blue-bird away.
At the same moment the whole party was roused by a wild and indescribable scream, followed by a magnificent flash of what seemed to be coloured fire.
In his half-sleeping condition, Lawrence, believing it to be the war-whoop of wild Indians, leaped up and grasped his cudgel, but nothing was to be seen save the grinning face of Quashy and the amused looks of Manuela and Pedro.
“Purrits,” remarked the negro, by way of explanation.
“What do you mean by purrits?” demanded Lawrence, half ashamed of his alarm.
“I mean what I says, massa,—purrits.”
“He means parrots,” said Pedro, with a grave smile, as he rose, and proceeded to fold up the poncho on which he had lain. “We’ve had many a song from these screamers, but I don’t remember ever seeing such a big flock come so near us, or scream so loud, before. They must have been attracted by your pretty face, Manuela, and could not help shouting with surprise at finding you asleep.”
Manuela laughed lightly as she stepped out of her hammock.
“They’ve just roused us in good time,” continued Pedro, looking up between the tree-tops at the sky, “for the hut of the tiger-hunter is a long way off, and I’m anxious to reach it before dark.”
In a few minutes the hammock and other camp equipage was conveyed to one of the native canoes, which lay close to the river’s bank, our travellers embarked, and ere long were far from the spot where the siesta had been taken.
In the afternoon they stopped for a little to refresh themselves with roasted parrot, chocolate, and biscuit.
Parrots are found everywhere and in great numbers in those regions between the Atlantic and Pacific. They live and travel in large flocks, and, as every one knows, they are remarkably fond of using their discordant voices, much to the annoyance of sensitive travellers. Fortunately such travellers do not often go to the wild regions of South America,—when they do, they soon become un-sensitive. When parrots assemble in a flock on the trees, they keep fluttering their wings with a tremulous motion, bending down their heads and chattering, young and old, without regard to each other or to harmony. Each seems bent on giving his own opinion in the loudest key, and pays no regard whatever to the opinions of others. There is something almost human in this!
It is a curious fact that, while the plumage of the parrots’ breasts is always gaudy and brilliant in the extreme, that of their backs is usually the colour of the general tone of the region they inhabit. In woods, where the bark of trees is chiefly bright yellow and green, their backs are of these colours. In the plains they are a mixture of green and brown, so that when skimming over a country they are not easily distinguished, but if they chance to come unexpectedly on travellers, they sheer off with a shriek, and expose their gaudy breasts to view.
The large flock that had so suddenly come on our friends while taking their siesta had turned off thus with a horrible scream, and revealed their gay breasts, on which the sun chanced to shine at the moment with great power, thus producing, as we have said, a splendid flash of colour.
“Massa,” inquired Quashy, as they sat in the canoe enjoying the cold meal and floating slowly with the stream, “which you likes best,—ros’ purrit or ros’ monkey?”
“Really, I’m not quite sure,” replied Lawrence; “it depends very much on appetite. If I’m very hungry, I prefer the one that comes first to hand. Which doyoulike best?”
“Well, I’s not kite sure needer. I t’ink sometimes dat monkey is best, but I can’t easy git ober de face.”
“How so, Quashy?”
“’Cause it am so like eatin’ a bit o’ my great-gran’moder.”
“Indeed!”
“Yes. You’s no notion how like dey all is to dat ole lady. You see, she was uncommon old. She come ob a long-lib race. Das whar’ it is. My moder was eighty-two, an’ my gran’moder was ninety-siven, an’ my great-gran’moder was a hun’r’d an’ sixteen, an’ dey was all alive togidder, an’ at fuss you couldn’ tell which was de oldest. Dey run neck an’ neck for a long time, but arter de great-gran’ one pass de hunr’ milestone—oh! she hoed ahead like a rattlesnake. De wrinkles an’ de crows’ foots, an’ de—de colour—jes’ like bu’nt leather! She lef’ de oders far behind, an’ looked like nuffin so much as dat poor little blear-eyed monkey you shot de oder day, what Senhorina Manuela say wassonice to eat. What! you un’erstan’ Ingliss?” added the negro, looking at the Indian girl, who had given vent to a half-suppressed giggle.
“Yes—leetil,” replied Manuela, without attempting further to restrain her mirth.
Quite pleased that his remarks should afford amusement, Quashy was about to launch out extensively on the “great-gran’moder” theme, when an exclamation from the guide checked him.
“Look, Senhor Armstrong,” he said, arresting the progress of the canoe by a slight turn of his paddle. “Yonder is a mode of fishing which no doubt is new to you.”
Pedro pointed as he spoke to a canoe which a sharp bend of the stream had just revealed to them. Its occupants were Indians. They were almost naked, and so intent on their occupation that the arrival of our travellers had not been observed. One of the Indians, a splendid specimen of muscular strength, stood up in the canoe with a bow and arrow in his hands and one foot on the gunwale, quite motionless. Suddenly he drew the bow, the arrow pierced the water without causing a ripple, and next moment a transfixed fish was struggling on the surface.
The fish was barely secured when the presence of strangers was discovered. An exclamation followed. Instantly the dark savage bent his bow, with the arrow pointed this time full at the breast of Pedro.
That worthy did not, however, seem much alarmed. He at once pushed out into the stream, and gave a shout which induced the savage not only to lower his bow, but to fling it into his canoe and throw up his arms with exclamations of surprise and joy.
“He knows you?” said Lawrence, looking back at Pedro, who sat in the stern of their canoe.
“Yes, he knows me. I am pretty well-known to most people in these regions. This is the tiger-hunter of whom I have spoken. His dwelling is not far-off.”
The meeting of the two friends was remarkably cordial, and it was evident to both Lawrence and Quashy that the white man and the brown were not only old friends, but more than usually fond of each other.
After the first salutations, both canoes were run to the bank of the stream, and when they had all landed, Pedro presented his friend to Lawrence, who shook hands with him in the English fashion.
“You have not mentioned your friend’s name,” said Lawrence.
“His name!” replied Pedro, with a laugh, “well, it is almost unpronounceable. Perhaps you had better call him by the name he goes by among his friends—Spotted Tiger, or, more briefly—Tiger.”
“Tell Spotted Tiger, then,” said Lawrence, “that I am happy to make his acquaintance.”
When the guide had translated this, and the Indian had returned a complimentary rejoinder, they continued to converse in the Indian tongue with much animation, and, on the part of Spotted Tiger, with some excitement. Of course Lawrence understood nothing, but he continued to watch the expressive features of the savage with interest, and observed, when their glances showed they were talking of Manuela, that Tiger first raised his eyebrows in surprise, and then smiled peculiarly.
“Strange,” thought Lawrence, “what can he mean by that? Perhaps he knows the chief, her father, but why look surprised and smile on that account? I wish Pedro was not so secretive. However, it’s his business, not mine!”
Consoling himself with this philosophic thought, Lawrence re-embarked with his friends, and, accompanied by Tiger, proceeded down stream till they came to a beautiful spot where the banks widened out into a small lake or pond. On its shores, under the cool shade of many trees, stood the hut of the savage.
The scenery here was more than usually beautiful, being diversified not only in form, but in its wealth and variety of trees, and twining parasites and graceful ferns, with, in one place, groves of tall trees covered with balls of wild cotton, as large as an orange, and, elsewhere, inextricable entanglements of gorgeously flowering creepers, such as the most vivid imagination would fail to invent or conceive. Behind one part of the scene the setting sun shone with intense light, turning all into dark forms, while in other parts the slanting rays fell upon masses of rich foliage, and intensified its colour.
In front of the hut a handsome Indian woman stood awaiting the arrival of her husband. She held in her arms a naked little ball of whitey-brown fat, which represented the youngest Tiger-cub of the family. Other cubs, less whitey, and more brown, romped around, while up in the trees several remembrancers of Quashy’s great-great-grandmother sat grinning with delight, if not indignation, at the human beings below.
After being hospitably entertained by the Indian with fish, alligator soup, roast parrot, and young monkey, the party assembled round a fire, kindled outside the hut more for the purpose of scaring away wild beasts than cooking, though the little Tiger-cubs used it for the latter purpose.
Then Pedro said to Lawrence—
“Now, Senhor Armstrong, I am going to ask you to exercise a little patience at this point in our journey. The business I have in hand requires that I should leave you for two or three days. I fully expect to be back by the end of that time, and meanwhile I leave you and Quashy and Manuela in good company, for my friend Spotted Tiger is true as steel, though heisan Indian, and will perhaps show you a little sport to prevent your wearying.”
“Very good, Pedro. I am quite willing to wait,” said Lawrence. “You know I am not pressed for time at present. I shall be very glad to remain and see what is to be seen here, and learn Spanish from Manuela.”
“Or teach her Angleesh,” suggested the girl, bashfully.
“Certainly. Whichever pleases you best, Manuela,” returned Lawrence.
“But s’pose,” said Quashy, with a look of awful solemnity at Pedro—“s’pose you nebber comes back at all! S’pose you gits drownded, or killed by a tiger, or shot by a Injin. What den?”
“Suppose,” retorted the guide, “that an earthquake should swallow up South America, or that the world should catch fire—what then?”
“Why den, we no care a buttin for not’ing arterdat,” replied the negro, promptly, “but if you don’ return, we nebber reach Buenos Ayres.”
“Never fear, Quashy. If I don’t return, Spotted Tiger will guide you safely there.”
That night Pedro and his friend left the hut in a canoe, lighted by a brilliant moon. Before morning the latter returned alone.
Meanwhile Lawrence had slung Manuela’s hammock between two trees, with a fire on either side, yet screened from the chief camp-fire by a thick bush, so that though close at hand, and under his protection, she occupied, as it were, a separate chamber of her own. His own hammock and that of Quashy—for they all used hammocks—were hung side by side a little nearer to the large fire.
Mr and Mrs Tiger, with all the little Tigers, finding their hut rather warm, came outside, and also made their beds beside their visitors.
Chapter Thirteen.Deals with Spotted Tiger’s Home, and a Hunting Expedition.In spite of howling jaguars, and snarling pumas, and buzzing mosquitoes, and the whole host of nocturnal abominations peculiar to those regions, our weary travellers lay peacefully in their hammocks, and slept like humming-tops. In regard to Quashy, we might more appropriately say like a buzzing-top.Once or twice during the night Quashy rose to replenish the fires, for the jaguars kept up a concert that rendered attention to this protection advisable; but he did it with half-closed eyes, and a sort of semi-wakefulness which changed into profound repose the instant he tumbled back into his hammock. Lawrence, not being so well accustomed to the situation, lay awake a short time at first, having his loaded pistols under his pillow; but, as we have said, he soon slumbered, and it is probable that all the jaguars, pumas, peccaries, tapirs, alligators, and wild cats in that district might have walked in procession under his hammock without disturbing him in the least, had they been so minded. As for Manuela, with that quiet indifference to mere prospective danger that usually characterises her race, she laid her head on her tiger-skin pillow, and slept the sleep of innocence—having absolute faith, no doubt, in the vigilance and care of her protectors.It might have been observed, however, that before lying down the Indian maiden knelt beside her hammock and hid her face in her hands. Indeed from the first it had been seen by her fellow-travellers that Manuela thus communed with her God, and on one occasion Lawrence, remarking on the fact, had asked Pedro if she were a Christian.“She is a Christian,” was Pedro’s reply, but as he manifested an evident intention not to be communicative on the subject, Lawrence forbore to put further questions, although he felt his interest in the girl as well as his curiosity increasing, and he longed to know how and when she had been turned from heathen worship to the knowledge of Christ.When daylight began to glimmer in the east, the bird, beast, and insect worlds began to stir. And a wonderful stir do these worlds make at that hour in the grand regions of Central South America; for although nocturnal birds and beasts retire and, at least partially, hide their diminished heads at daylight, the myriad denizens of the forests bound forth with renewed life and vigour to sing a morning hymn of praise to their Maker—involuntarily or voluntarily, who can tell which, and what right has man to say dogmatically that it cannot be the latter? Thousands of cooing doves, legions of chattering parrots, made the air vocal; millions of little birds of every size and hue twittered an accompaniment, and myriads of mosquitoes and other insects filled up the orchestra with a high pitched drone, while alligators and other aquatic monsters beat time with flipper, fin, and tail.Breakfast, consisting of excellent fish, eggs, maize, jaguar-steak, roast duck, alligator-ragout, and chocolate, was prepared outside the Indian hut. The hut itself was unusually clean, Tiger being a peculiar and eccentric savage, who seemed to have been born, as the saying is, in advance of his generation. He was a noted man among his brethren, not only for strength and prowess, but for strange ideas and practices, especially for his total disregard of public opinion.In respect of cleanliness, his hut differed from the huts of all other men of his tribe. It was built of sun-dried mud. The furniture consisted of two beds, or heaps of leaves and skins, and several rude vessels of clay. The walls were decorated with bows, arrows, blow-pipes, lances, game-bags, fishing-lines, and other articles of the chase, as well as with miniature weapons and appliances of a similar kind, varying its size according to the ages of the little Tigers. Besides these, there hung from the rafters—if we may so name the sticks that stretched overhead—several network hammocks and unfinished garments, the handiwork of Mrs Tiger.That lady herself was a fat and by no means uncomely young woman, simply clothed in a white tunic, fastened at the waist with a belt—the arms and neck being bare. Her black hair was cut straight across the forehead, an extremely ugly but simple mode of freeing the face from interference, which we might say is peculiar to all savage nations had not the highly civilised English of the present day adopted it, thus proving the truth of the proverb that “extremes meet”! The rest of her hair was gathered into one long heavy plait, which hung down behind. Altogether, Madame Tiger was clean and pleasant looking—for a savage. This is more than could be said of her progeny, which swarmed about the place in undisguised contempt of cleanliness or propriety.Stepping into the hut after kindling the fire outside, Quashy proceeded to make himself at home by sitting down on a bundle.The bundle spurted out a yell, wriggled violently, and proved itself to be a boy!Jumping up in haste, Quashy discommoded a tame parrot on the rafters, which, with a horrible shriek in the Indian tongue, descended on his head and grasped his hair, while a tame monkey made faces at him and a tame turtle waddled out of his way.Having thus as it were established his footing in the family, the negro removed the parrot to his perch, receiving a powerful bite of gratitude in the act, and invited the wife of Spotted Tiger to join the breakfast-party. This he did by the express order of Lawrence, for he would not himself have originated such a piece of condescension. Not knowing the dialect of that region, however, he failed to convey his meaning by words and resorted to pantomime. Rubbing his stomach gently with one hand, he opened his mouth wide, pointed down his throat with the forefinger of the other hand, and made a jerky reference with his thumb to the scene of preparations outside.Madame Tiger declined, however, and pointed to a dark corner, where a sick child claimed her attention.“O poor t’ing! what’s de matter wid it?” asked Quashy, going forward and taking one of the child’s thin hands in his enormous paw.The little girl must have been rather pretty when in health, but there was not much of good looks left at that time, save the splendid black eyes, the lustre of which seemed rather to have improved with sickness. The poor thing appeared to know that she had found in the negro a sympathetic soul, for she not only suffered her hand to remain in his, but gave vent to a little squeak of contentment.“Stop! You hold on a bit, Poppity,” said Quashy, whose inventive capacity in the way of endearing terms was great, “I’ll fetch de doctor.”He ran out and presently returned with Lawrence, who shook his head the moment he set eyes on the child.“No hope?” inquired Quashy, with solemnity unspeakable on his countenance.“Well, I won’t say that. While there is life there is hope, but it would have been more hopeful if I had seen the child a week or two sooner.”After a careful examination, during which the father, who had come in, and the mother looked on with quiet patience, and Manuela with some anxiety, he found that there was still room for hope, but, he said, turning to Quashy, “she will require the most careful and constant nursing, and as neither Tiger nor his wife understands what we say, and Pedro may not be back for some days, it will be difficult to explain to them what should be done. Can you not speak their dialect even a little?” he added in Spanish to Manuela.She shook her head, but said quietly—“Me will nurse.”“That’s very kind of you, and it will really be a charity, for the child is seriously ill. She is a strangely attractive little thing,” he continued, bending over her couch and stroking her hair gently. “I feel quite as if I had known her a long time. Now, I will give you instructions as well as I can as to what you have to do. Shall I give them in Spanish or English?”Quite gravely the Indian girl replied, “Angleesh.”“Very well,” said he, and proceeded to tell Manuela how to act as sick-nurse. When he had finished, the girl at once stepped up to Tiger’s wife with a winning smile, patted her shoulder, kissed her forehead, and then, pointing to the little invalid with a look of profound intelligence, went out of the hut. Presently she returned with some of the gravy of the alligator-ragout, sat down beside the little one, and began to administer it in small quantities. Evidently the child was pleased both with the food and the angel of mercy who had found her, for she nestled in a comfortable way close to Manuela’s side. Lawrence observed, when the latter looked round for something she wanted, that her eyes were full of tears.“I knew I was right,” he muttered to himself as he returned to the fire, where Quashy had already spread out the breakfast, “she certainlymustbe a princess of the Incas. They were notoriously celebrated for their gentle and amiable qualities, even at the time of Pizarro’s conquest.”What more passed in his mind we cannot tell, for he ceased to mutter, and never revealed his subsequent thoughts to any one.“Now, Quashy,” said Lawrence, when breakfast was over, “we are left here in what we may style difficulties. The Indians don’t understand Spanish or English, so until Pedro returns we shall have to get along as best we can by signs.”“Bery well, massa, I hope you knows how to talk by signs, for its more dan dis nigger do.”As he spoke he threw an ear of maize at a monkey which sat on a branch overhead gazing at the party with an expression of the most woebegone resignation. He missed his aim, but none the less did that monkey change its look into a glare of intense indignation, after which it fled shrieking, with hurt feelings, into the woods.“I’m not much up in the language of signs,” said Lawrence, “but we must try our best.”Saying which he arose, and, touching Tiger on the shoulder, beckoned him to follow.With the lithe, easy motions of the animal after which he was named, the Indian rose. Lawrence led him a few paces from the fire, and then, putting himself in the attitude of a man discharging an arrow from a bow, suddenly let the imaginary arrow fly, looked at the savage, touched his own breast, and smiled.So did Quashy, with compound interest. Spotted Tiger looked puzzled, shook his head, and also smiled.“He t’ink you wants him to shoot you,” said Quashy.“No, no, that’s not it,” said Lawrence, with a somewhat abashed look at the Indian. “I want you to take us out shooting—hunting, you know—hunting.”As Tiger didnotknow the word “hunting” he continued to shake his head with a puzzled air.Every one who has tried it knows what a silly, almost imbecile, feeling comes over one when one attempts the communication of ideas in dumb show. Feelings of this sort affected our hero very keenly. He therefore, while continuing the pantomime, kept up a running or interjectional accompaniment in the English language.“Look here, Tiger,” he said, impressively, taking up two sticks which he made to represent a bow and arrow, and placing them in position, “I want to go hunting with you—hunting—shooting the jaguar.”“Yes, de jaguar—tiger, you know,” said Quashy, who, in his anxiety to get the savage to understand, imitated his master’s actions, and could not refrain from occasionally supplementing his speech.As a tiger-skin chanced to be hanging on a bush near to the fire, Lawrence completed his pantomime by throwing his mimic arrow against that.A gleam of intelligence suffused the face of the savage. Stalking into his hut, he returned with a bow considerably longer than himself, and an arrow, also of great length. Retiring to a distance from the jaguar-skin above referred to, he bent his bow quickly, and sent an arrow straight through the middle of it, thereafter raising himself with a look of pride.“Why, the fellow thinks I want him to show off his powers of shooting,” said Lawrence.“So he do—de idjit!” said Quashy.With much anxiety of expression, great demonstration of vigorous action, and many painful efforts of inventive genius, the two men tried to convey their wishes to that son of the soil, but all in vain. At last in desperation Quashy suddenly seized the jaguar-skin, threw it over his own shoulders, placed a long pole in Lawrence’s hands, and said—“Now, massa, you look out, I’s agwine to spring at you, and you stick me.”He uttered a mighty roar as he spoke, and bounded towards his master, who, entering at once into the spirit of the play, received him on the point of his spear, whereupon the human jaguar instantly fell and revelled for a few seconds in the agonies of death. Then he calmly rose.“Now,” said he, with a look of contempt, “if he no understan’ dat, it’s ’cause he hain’t got no brains.”At first the Indian had gazed at this little scene with a look of intense astonishment. When it was finished he burst into a fit of hearty laughter. Evidently it was the best piece of acting he had seen since he was born, and if he had been other than a savage, he must certainly have shouted “bravo!” perhaps “encore!” and clapped his hands.“Boh! he’s a born idjit!” cried Quashy, turning away in disgust, but a new idea seemed to flash into his fertile brain.“Stop a bit!” he suddenly exclaimed, seizing a piece of flat bark that lay at his feet. On this, with the point of a charred stick, he drew a triangular form, with three dots in it for two eyes and a nose. An oval attached to this represented a body; at the other end a long waving line served for a tail; four short lines below indicated legs. This creature he covered all over with spots.“There,” he cried, sticking it into a bush, and glaring at the Indian, “jaguar!—jaguar!”Catching up the pole which Lawrence had thrown down, he rushed at this jaguar, and pierced it through the heart. Thereafter, in hot haste, he picked up Tiger’s bow and arrows, ran down to the river, put them into a small canoe, and thrust it into the water. Holding on with one hand, he waved with the other.“Ho! hi! come along, you stuppid idjit!”The “stuppid idjit” was enlightened at last. With a dignified smile, which would probably have been a frown if he had understood Quashy’s words, he went up to his hut, and selected a lance and a bow, with which, and a quiver of arrows, he returned to the little hunting canoe.Seeing that they were now understood, Lawrence took his shot-gun and pistols; the negro also armed himself, and in a few minutes more they found themselves paddling gently down the sluggish current of the river.The scenery through which those curiously assorted hunters passed that day in their light canoe was singularly beautiful; and when, turning up one of the narrow streams that fed the main river, they came into a region of sweet, mellow twilight, caused by the over-arching trees, where the very aspect of nature suggested, though it could not create, coolness, Lawrence felt as if he had been at last transported into those famous regions of fairyland which, if they really existed, and we were in very deed to get into them, would, perchance, not equal, and certainly could not excel, our own actual world!Gigantic trees towered upwards till their heads were lost in the umbrageous canopy, while their stems were clasped by powerful snake-like creepers, or adorned with flowering parasites. The bushes grew so thick and tangled that it seemed as if neither man nor beast could penetrate them—which indeed was the case, as regards man, in many places; yet here and there unexpected openings permitted the charmed eyes to rest upon romantic vistas where creepers, convolvuli, and other flowers, of every shape, hue, and size, hung in festoons and clusters, or carpeted the ground. Fruit, too, was there in abundance. Everything seemed to bear fruit. The refreshing and not too luscious prickly pear; the oukli, an enormous cactus, not unlike the prickly pear but with larger fruit, whose delightful pulp was of a blood-red colour; the ancoche, with sweet-tasted pearl-like drops, and many others.There was plenty of animal life, also, in and around this stream, to interest the hunters, who were now obliged to exert themselves a little to make head against the sluggish current. Water-hens were innumerable, and other wild-fowl flew or paddled about, enjoying, apparently, a most luxuriant existence, while brown ant-hills were suggestive of exceedingly busy life below as well as above ground. There are many kinds of ants out there, some of them very large, others not quite so large, which, however, make up in vicious wickedness what they lack in size.At one bend in the stream they came suddenly on a boa-constrictor which was swimming across; at another turn they discovered a sight which caused Lawrence to exclaim—“There’s a breakfast for you, Quashy. What would you say to that?”“I’d like to hab ’im cooked, massa.”The reference was to an alligator which was crossing the stream a few yards ahead of them, with a live boa in his jaws. The huge serpent was about twelve feet long, and wriggled horribly to escape, but the monster had it fast by the middle. Evidently its doom was fixed.Several tapirs and a band of grunting peccaries were also seen, but all these were passed without molestation, for the ambitions of our hunters that day soared to nothing less than the tiger of the American jungles—the sneaking, lithe, strong, and much-dreaded jaguar.Spotted Tiger seemed to have at last become fully aware of the spirit of his companions, for he took no apparent note of the various animals seen as they passed along, and evidently was on the outlook for the monarch of the jungle. Having been told by Pedro that he was a celebrated hunter, Lawrence felt sure that he would lead them to success.“Why you no shoot de deer an’ pepper de alligators, massa?” asked Quashy at last, after several of the creatures mentioned had been seen and passed.“Because I don’t want them,” returned Lawrence, “and I have no pleasure in useless destruction of life. Besides, I am anxious to shoot a jaguar, having a strong wish to take home the claws and skull of one—the first for my friends, the last for a museum. When we want food I will shoot deer, or anything else that’s eatable.”Quashy remained silent. He seemed to be revolving his master’s reply in a philosophical way, when something between a snarl and a growl turned his thoughts sharply into another channel.Tiger quietly prepared his bow and arrows and laid his spears so that they should be handy. Lawrence and the negro also got ready their weapons, and then they advanced with caution, dipping their paddles lightly, and gazing earnestly into the jungle on the right bank of the stream.
In spite of howling jaguars, and snarling pumas, and buzzing mosquitoes, and the whole host of nocturnal abominations peculiar to those regions, our weary travellers lay peacefully in their hammocks, and slept like humming-tops. In regard to Quashy, we might more appropriately say like a buzzing-top.
Once or twice during the night Quashy rose to replenish the fires, for the jaguars kept up a concert that rendered attention to this protection advisable; but he did it with half-closed eyes, and a sort of semi-wakefulness which changed into profound repose the instant he tumbled back into his hammock. Lawrence, not being so well accustomed to the situation, lay awake a short time at first, having his loaded pistols under his pillow; but, as we have said, he soon slumbered, and it is probable that all the jaguars, pumas, peccaries, tapirs, alligators, and wild cats in that district might have walked in procession under his hammock without disturbing him in the least, had they been so minded. As for Manuela, with that quiet indifference to mere prospective danger that usually characterises her race, she laid her head on her tiger-skin pillow, and slept the sleep of innocence—having absolute faith, no doubt, in the vigilance and care of her protectors.
It might have been observed, however, that before lying down the Indian maiden knelt beside her hammock and hid her face in her hands. Indeed from the first it had been seen by her fellow-travellers that Manuela thus communed with her God, and on one occasion Lawrence, remarking on the fact, had asked Pedro if she were a Christian.
“She is a Christian,” was Pedro’s reply, but as he manifested an evident intention not to be communicative on the subject, Lawrence forbore to put further questions, although he felt his interest in the girl as well as his curiosity increasing, and he longed to know how and when she had been turned from heathen worship to the knowledge of Christ.
When daylight began to glimmer in the east, the bird, beast, and insect worlds began to stir. And a wonderful stir do these worlds make at that hour in the grand regions of Central South America; for although nocturnal birds and beasts retire and, at least partially, hide their diminished heads at daylight, the myriad denizens of the forests bound forth with renewed life and vigour to sing a morning hymn of praise to their Maker—involuntarily or voluntarily, who can tell which, and what right has man to say dogmatically that it cannot be the latter? Thousands of cooing doves, legions of chattering parrots, made the air vocal; millions of little birds of every size and hue twittered an accompaniment, and myriads of mosquitoes and other insects filled up the orchestra with a high pitched drone, while alligators and other aquatic monsters beat time with flipper, fin, and tail.
Breakfast, consisting of excellent fish, eggs, maize, jaguar-steak, roast duck, alligator-ragout, and chocolate, was prepared outside the Indian hut. The hut itself was unusually clean, Tiger being a peculiar and eccentric savage, who seemed to have been born, as the saying is, in advance of his generation. He was a noted man among his brethren, not only for strength and prowess, but for strange ideas and practices, especially for his total disregard of public opinion.
In respect of cleanliness, his hut differed from the huts of all other men of his tribe. It was built of sun-dried mud. The furniture consisted of two beds, or heaps of leaves and skins, and several rude vessels of clay. The walls were decorated with bows, arrows, blow-pipes, lances, game-bags, fishing-lines, and other articles of the chase, as well as with miniature weapons and appliances of a similar kind, varying its size according to the ages of the little Tigers. Besides these, there hung from the rafters—if we may so name the sticks that stretched overhead—several network hammocks and unfinished garments, the handiwork of Mrs Tiger.
That lady herself was a fat and by no means uncomely young woman, simply clothed in a white tunic, fastened at the waist with a belt—the arms and neck being bare. Her black hair was cut straight across the forehead, an extremely ugly but simple mode of freeing the face from interference, which we might say is peculiar to all savage nations had not the highly civilised English of the present day adopted it, thus proving the truth of the proverb that “extremes meet”! The rest of her hair was gathered into one long heavy plait, which hung down behind. Altogether, Madame Tiger was clean and pleasant looking—for a savage. This is more than could be said of her progeny, which swarmed about the place in undisguised contempt of cleanliness or propriety.
Stepping into the hut after kindling the fire outside, Quashy proceeded to make himself at home by sitting down on a bundle.
The bundle spurted out a yell, wriggled violently, and proved itself to be a boy!
Jumping up in haste, Quashy discommoded a tame parrot on the rafters, which, with a horrible shriek in the Indian tongue, descended on his head and grasped his hair, while a tame monkey made faces at him and a tame turtle waddled out of his way.
Having thus as it were established his footing in the family, the negro removed the parrot to his perch, receiving a powerful bite of gratitude in the act, and invited the wife of Spotted Tiger to join the breakfast-party. This he did by the express order of Lawrence, for he would not himself have originated such a piece of condescension. Not knowing the dialect of that region, however, he failed to convey his meaning by words and resorted to pantomime. Rubbing his stomach gently with one hand, he opened his mouth wide, pointed down his throat with the forefinger of the other hand, and made a jerky reference with his thumb to the scene of preparations outside.
Madame Tiger declined, however, and pointed to a dark corner, where a sick child claimed her attention.
“O poor t’ing! what’s de matter wid it?” asked Quashy, going forward and taking one of the child’s thin hands in his enormous paw.
The little girl must have been rather pretty when in health, but there was not much of good looks left at that time, save the splendid black eyes, the lustre of which seemed rather to have improved with sickness. The poor thing appeared to know that she had found in the negro a sympathetic soul, for she not only suffered her hand to remain in his, but gave vent to a little squeak of contentment.
“Stop! You hold on a bit, Poppity,” said Quashy, whose inventive capacity in the way of endearing terms was great, “I’ll fetch de doctor.”
He ran out and presently returned with Lawrence, who shook his head the moment he set eyes on the child.
“No hope?” inquired Quashy, with solemnity unspeakable on his countenance.
“Well, I won’t say that. While there is life there is hope, but it would have been more hopeful if I had seen the child a week or two sooner.”
After a careful examination, during which the father, who had come in, and the mother looked on with quiet patience, and Manuela with some anxiety, he found that there was still room for hope, but, he said, turning to Quashy, “she will require the most careful and constant nursing, and as neither Tiger nor his wife understands what we say, and Pedro may not be back for some days, it will be difficult to explain to them what should be done. Can you not speak their dialect even a little?” he added in Spanish to Manuela.
She shook her head, but said quietly—
“Me will nurse.”
“That’s very kind of you, and it will really be a charity, for the child is seriously ill. She is a strangely attractive little thing,” he continued, bending over her couch and stroking her hair gently. “I feel quite as if I had known her a long time. Now, I will give you instructions as well as I can as to what you have to do. Shall I give them in Spanish or English?”
Quite gravely the Indian girl replied, “Angleesh.”
“Very well,” said he, and proceeded to tell Manuela how to act as sick-nurse. When he had finished, the girl at once stepped up to Tiger’s wife with a winning smile, patted her shoulder, kissed her forehead, and then, pointing to the little invalid with a look of profound intelligence, went out of the hut. Presently she returned with some of the gravy of the alligator-ragout, sat down beside the little one, and began to administer it in small quantities. Evidently the child was pleased both with the food and the angel of mercy who had found her, for she nestled in a comfortable way close to Manuela’s side. Lawrence observed, when the latter looked round for something she wanted, that her eyes were full of tears.
“I knew I was right,” he muttered to himself as he returned to the fire, where Quashy had already spread out the breakfast, “she certainlymustbe a princess of the Incas. They were notoriously celebrated for their gentle and amiable qualities, even at the time of Pizarro’s conquest.”
What more passed in his mind we cannot tell, for he ceased to mutter, and never revealed his subsequent thoughts to any one.
“Now, Quashy,” said Lawrence, when breakfast was over, “we are left here in what we may style difficulties. The Indians don’t understand Spanish or English, so until Pedro returns we shall have to get along as best we can by signs.”
“Bery well, massa, I hope you knows how to talk by signs, for its more dan dis nigger do.”
As he spoke he threw an ear of maize at a monkey which sat on a branch overhead gazing at the party with an expression of the most woebegone resignation. He missed his aim, but none the less did that monkey change its look into a glare of intense indignation, after which it fled shrieking, with hurt feelings, into the woods.
“I’m not much up in the language of signs,” said Lawrence, “but we must try our best.”
Saying which he arose, and, touching Tiger on the shoulder, beckoned him to follow.
With the lithe, easy motions of the animal after which he was named, the Indian rose. Lawrence led him a few paces from the fire, and then, putting himself in the attitude of a man discharging an arrow from a bow, suddenly let the imaginary arrow fly, looked at the savage, touched his own breast, and smiled.
So did Quashy, with compound interest. Spotted Tiger looked puzzled, shook his head, and also smiled.
“He t’ink you wants him to shoot you,” said Quashy.
“No, no, that’s not it,” said Lawrence, with a somewhat abashed look at the Indian. “I want you to take us out shooting—hunting, you know—hunting.”
As Tiger didnotknow the word “hunting” he continued to shake his head with a puzzled air.
Every one who has tried it knows what a silly, almost imbecile, feeling comes over one when one attempts the communication of ideas in dumb show. Feelings of this sort affected our hero very keenly. He therefore, while continuing the pantomime, kept up a running or interjectional accompaniment in the English language.
“Look here, Tiger,” he said, impressively, taking up two sticks which he made to represent a bow and arrow, and placing them in position, “I want to go hunting with you—hunting—shooting the jaguar.”
“Yes, de jaguar—tiger, you know,” said Quashy, who, in his anxiety to get the savage to understand, imitated his master’s actions, and could not refrain from occasionally supplementing his speech.
As a tiger-skin chanced to be hanging on a bush near to the fire, Lawrence completed his pantomime by throwing his mimic arrow against that.
A gleam of intelligence suffused the face of the savage. Stalking into his hut, he returned with a bow considerably longer than himself, and an arrow, also of great length. Retiring to a distance from the jaguar-skin above referred to, he bent his bow quickly, and sent an arrow straight through the middle of it, thereafter raising himself with a look of pride.
“Why, the fellow thinks I want him to show off his powers of shooting,” said Lawrence.
“So he do—de idjit!” said Quashy.
With much anxiety of expression, great demonstration of vigorous action, and many painful efforts of inventive genius, the two men tried to convey their wishes to that son of the soil, but all in vain. At last in desperation Quashy suddenly seized the jaguar-skin, threw it over his own shoulders, placed a long pole in Lawrence’s hands, and said—
“Now, massa, you look out, I’s agwine to spring at you, and you stick me.”
He uttered a mighty roar as he spoke, and bounded towards his master, who, entering at once into the spirit of the play, received him on the point of his spear, whereupon the human jaguar instantly fell and revelled for a few seconds in the agonies of death. Then he calmly rose.
“Now,” said he, with a look of contempt, “if he no understan’ dat, it’s ’cause he hain’t got no brains.”
At first the Indian had gazed at this little scene with a look of intense astonishment. When it was finished he burst into a fit of hearty laughter. Evidently it was the best piece of acting he had seen since he was born, and if he had been other than a savage, he must certainly have shouted “bravo!” perhaps “encore!” and clapped his hands.
“Boh! he’s a born idjit!” cried Quashy, turning away in disgust, but a new idea seemed to flash into his fertile brain.
“Stop a bit!” he suddenly exclaimed, seizing a piece of flat bark that lay at his feet. On this, with the point of a charred stick, he drew a triangular form, with three dots in it for two eyes and a nose. An oval attached to this represented a body; at the other end a long waving line served for a tail; four short lines below indicated legs. This creature he covered all over with spots.
“There,” he cried, sticking it into a bush, and glaring at the Indian, “jaguar!—jaguar!”
Catching up the pole which Lawrence had thrown down, he rushed at this jaguar, and pierced it through the heart. Thereafter, in hot haste, he picked up Tiger’s bow and arrows, ran down to the river, put them into a small canoe, and thrust it into the water. Holding on with one hand, he waved with the other.
“Ho! hi! come along, you stuppid idjit!”
The “stuppid idjit” was enlightened at last. With a dignified smile, which would probably have been a frown if he had understood Quashy’s words, he went up to his hut, and selected a lance and a bow, with which, and a quiver of arrows, he returned to the little hunting canoe.
Seeing that they were now understood, Lawrence took his shot-gun and pistols; the negro also armed himself, and in a few minutes more they found themselves paddling gently down the sluggish current of the river.
The scenery through which those curiously assorted hunters passed that day in their light canoe was singularly beautiful; and when, turning up one of the narrow streams that fed the main river, they came into a region of sweet, mellow twilight, caused by the over-arching trees, where the very aspect of nature suggested, though it could not create, coolness, Lawrence felt as if he had been at last transported into those famous regions of fairyland which, if they really existed, and we were in very deed to get into them, would, perchance, not equal, and certainly could not excel, our own actual world!
Gigantic trees towered upwards till their heads were lost in the umbrageous canopy, while their stems were clasped by powerful snake-like creepers, or adorned with flowering parasites. The bushes grew so thick and tangled that it seemed as if neither man nor beast could penetrate them—which indeed was the case, as regards man, in many places; yet here and there unexpected openings permitted the charmed eyes to rest upon romantic vistas where creepers, convolvuli, and other flowers, of every shape, hue, and size, hung in festoons and clusters, or carpeted the ground. Fruit, too, was there in abundance. Everything seemed to bear fruit. The refreshing and not too luscious prickly pear; the oukli, an enormous cactus, not unlike the prickly pear but with larger fruit, whose delightful pulp was of a blood-red colour; the ancoche, with sweet-tasted pearl-like drops, and many others.
There was plenty of animal life, also, in and around this stream, to interest the hunters, who were now obliged to exert themselves a little to make head against the sluggish current. Water-hens were innumerable, and other wild-fowl flew or paddled about, enjoying, apparently, a most luxuriant existence, while brown ant-hills were suggestive of exceedingly busy life below as well as above ground. There are many kinds of ants out there, some of them very large, others not quite so large, which, however, make up in vicious wickedness what they lack in size.
At one bend in the stream they came suddenly on a boa-constrictor which was swimming across; at another turn they discovered a sight which caused Lawrence to exclaim—
“There’s a breakfast for you, Quashy. What would you say to that?”
“I’d like to hab ’im cooked, massa.”
The reference was to an alligator which was crossing the stream a few yards ahead of them, with a live boa in his jaws. The huge serpent was about twelve feet long, and wriggled horribly to escape, but the monster had it fast by the middle. Evidently its doom was fixed.
Several tapirs and a band of grunting peccaries were also seen, but all these were passed without molestation, for the ambitions of our hunters that day soared to nothing less than the tiger of the American jungles—the sneaking, lithe, strong, and much-dreaded jaguar.
Spotted Tiger seemed to have at last become fully aware of the spirit of his companions, for he took no apparent note of the various animals seen as they passed along, and evidently was on the outlook for the monarch of the jungle. Having been told by Pedro that he was a celebrated hunter, Lawrence felt sure that he would lead them to success.
“Why you no shoot de deer an’ pepper de alligators, massa?” asked Quashy at last, after several of the creatures mentioned had been seen and passed.
“Because I don’t want them,” returned Lawrence, “and I have no pleasure in useless destruction of life. Besides, I am anxious to shoot a jaguar, having a strong wish to take home the claws and skull of one—the first for my friends, the last for a museum. When we want food I will shoot deer, or anything else that’s eatable.”
Quashy remained silent. He seemed to be revolving his master’s reply in a philosophical way, when something between a snarl and a growl turned his thoughts sharply into another channel.
Tiger quietly prepared his bow and arrows and laid his spears so that they should be handy. Lawrence and the negro also got ready their weapons, and then they advanced with caution, dipping their paddles lightly, and gazing earnestly into the jungle on the right bank of the stream.
Chapter Fourteen.The Hunt continued; one of the Hunters almost concluded. Explorations indulged in, and a Capture effected.“Dar, massa, dar he is,” exclaimed Quashy, in a hoarse whisper, pointing into the bushes.“Nonsense, man,” replied Lawrence, in a low voice, “it’s only an ant-hill.”Even in that moment of excitement, Lawrence could scarce refrain from laughter at the face of his humble follower, for Quashy’s business in life had not accustomed him to much sport at any time; and the prospect of actually assisting at the slaughter of a jaguar or a puma had stirred every nerve and fibre of his black being into intense excitation, so that his eyes and nostrils were dilated to the utmost, and he panted vehemently—with hope, of course, not fear!Tiger, on the contrary, was cool and calm, though watchful. He paid no attention whatever to his companions, being too well acquainted with his work to stand in need of either advice or assistance from them.As guide, the savage occupied the bow of the canoe; Lawrence sat in the middle, and Quashy in the stern, for he understood how to steer. Having been admonished to hold his tongue, he crouched so as, if possible, to diminish his size. He also pursed his lips,—and what a tight rounding and projecting of superfluous flesh that pursing was no tongue can adequately tell. He also glared, and this “talking with the eyes” was a mute sermon in itself.Yet no jaguar could be seen. Silently, with dip of paddle that made no sound, and glide of craft through the water that produced only an oily ripple, they slowly ascended the stream.At first Lawrence had seized his fowling-piece, which was charged with ball for the occasion; but as time passed, and the Indian showed no intention of landing, he laid the gun down, and again took up his paddle.After a time, through some inadvertence of Quashy, the canoe was sent rather close in among the reeds and giant leaves of the bank.“That was stupid of you, Quash,” said Lawrence, as he stood up to assist Tiger in backing out.“Das true, massa,” said the negro, in profoundest humility of self-condemnation, “I’s a black idjit.”As the fore part of the canoe had touched on a mudbank, Lawrence seized one of the Indian’s lances, and used the butt end as a pole with which to push off. Under this impulse the canoe was gradually sliding into deep water, when a rustling of the leaves was heard, and next instant a full-sized jaguar sprang upon the Indian with cat-like agility. Whether the brute had slipped on the muddy bank we cannot say, but it missed its aim, and, instead of alighting on the shoulders of the man, it merely struck him on the head with one of its paws in passing, and went with a tremendous splash into the water.Tiger fell forward insensible from the severe scalp-wound inflicted. Next instant the jaguar rose, grasped the edge of the canoe, and almost overturned it as it strove to climb in; and there is no doubt that in another moment it would have succeeded, for the attack was so sudden that Quashy sat paralysed, while Lawrence forgot his pistols, and his gun lay in the bottom of the canoe! Happily, however, he recovered enough of presence of mind to use the lance in his hands. Turning the point of the weapon to the jaguar’s mouth, he thrust it in with such tremendous force that it passed right down its throat and into its very vitals. With a gasping snarl the monster fell back into the stream, and was quickly drowned as well as impaled.“Help me to haul him on board,” cried Lawrence.Thus awakened, the negro, relieving his feelings by giving vent to a roar which partook somewhat of a cheer, seized the jaguar’s tail. His master grasped its ears, and in another moment it lay in the bottom of the canoe.“Now, help to lay the poor fellow beside it,” said Lawrence.“O massa!—he not dead, eh?” groaned the negro, as he assisted in the work.“No; nor likely to die yet a while,” replied Lawrence, with much satisfaction, as he examined and bound up the scalp-wound. “It is not deep; he’ll soon come round; but we must get him home without delay. Out with your paddle, Quashy, and use it well. I’ll take the bow.”The canoe, which, during these proceedings, had been floating slowly down stream, was now turned in the right direction, and in a short time was out upon the larger river.Here, however, they had to labour with energy against the stream, and it was far on in the afternoon before they came in sight of the Indian’s hut. By that time Spotted Tiger had partially recovered, as Lawrence observed during a pause made for rest. On reaching an eddy, which carried the canoe in the right direction, they rested again. The cessation of paddling appeared to rouse the wounded man, for he sat up, and, with a half-dazed look, stared at the head of the dead jaguar, on the haunch of which his elbow leaned. Then he cast an inquiring look at Lawrence, who replied to him with a nod and a smile, and went on to indicate, by means of pantomime, what had occurred.He pointed to the animal’s claws, and to Tiger’s head; then to the bloody spear which lay at his side, and to the jaguar’s blood-stained throat, after which he pointed to his own breast and nodded again.The Indian evidently understood him, for an expression of gratitude overspread his countenance as he extended his right hand—English fashion—for a shake. Our hero was not slow to grasp it, and the two exchanged a squeeze which told of lasting friendship and good-will.A few minutes later, and the canoe was run upon the bank in front of the hut, where all the children were assembled to receive them.It did not seem as if any of the family were deeply affected by the shaky appearance of the father as he stepped on shore, but the younger members evinced feelings of intense delight when the jaguar was lifted out; and two of them, seizing the tail as a tow-rope, passed it over their shoulders, and dragged the carcass up to the hut to show it to their mother.O mothers! loving repositories of childhood’s joys and woes, ye are unquestionably the same in substance and in spirit all the world over!Tiger’s wife was more affected than Lawrence expected she would have been by her husband’s accident, and tended him with anxious care. By taking hold of him, and laying him gently down in a corner opposite to that of his sick child, Lawrence gave him to understand that it was his duty to take rest. To say truth, he did not require much persuasion, but at once laid his head on his pillow, and quietly went to sleep.“The hospital is filling rather quickly, Manuela,” said Lawrence, when he had finished tending his new patient, “and your duties are increasing, I fear.”“No fear. Me likes to nuss,” replied the girl, with a look that puzzled the young doctor.It was Manuela’s fascinating smile that came hardest on our poor hero. When she looked grave or sad, he could regard her as a mere statue, an unusually classical-looking bronze savage; but when she smiled, there was something so bewitchingly sweet in the lines of her little face that he felt constrained to shut his eyes, turn away, and groan in spirit, to think that she was brown, and a savage!“Was thereevera case,” he thought, “so mysteriously miserable, so singularly sad, as mine! If she were only white, I would marry her at once, (if she would have me), for the sake of her gentle spirit alone,—ay, even though she were the child of a costermonger; but I cannot, Idonot, love a savage, the daughter of a savage chief, with a skin the colour of shoe leather! No, it is impossible! and yet, I am in love with her spirit. I know it. I feel it. I never heard of such a strange thing before,—a man in love with a portion of a woman, and that the immaterial portion!”The last word changed the current of his thoughts, for it suggested the idea of another “portion” belonging to some girls with which men are too apt to fall in love!“Massa, de grub’s ready,” said Quashy, entering the hut at that moment.“Go to work then, Quash. Don’t wait. I’ll be with you directly.”But Quashy did wait. He was much too unselfish a son of ebony to think of beginning before his master.When they had seated themselves on the grass outside the hut, along with Manuela, who left her post of duty in order to dine, and had made a considerable impression on the alligator-ragout and tiger-steaks and other delicacies, Quashy heaved a deep sigh of partial satisfaction, and asked if Tiger would be well enough to go out hunting next day.“I think not,” said Lawrence; “no doubt he mayfeelable for it, but if he shows any disposition to do so, I shall forbid him.”“How you forbid him, when you not can speak hims tongue?” asked Manuela, in a mild little voice, but with an arch look to which her arched black eyebrows gave intense expression.“Well,” replied Lawrence, laughing, “I must try signs, I suppose, as usual.”“No use, massa,” said Quashy; “nebber make him understan’. I gib you a plan. See here. You tie him up hand an’ foot; den we go off huntin’ by our lone, an’ let him lie till we comes back.”Lawrence shook his head. “I fear he would kill us on our return. No, we must just go off early in the morning before he wakes, and get Manuela to try her hand at sign-language. She can prevail on him, no doubt, to remain at home.”“I vill try,” said Manuela, with a laugh.In pursuance of this plan, Lawrence and Quashy rose before broad daylight the following morning, launched the little canoe they had used the day before, put gun, spears, etcetera, on board, and were about to push off, when one of the boys of the family ran down, and seemed to wish to accompany them.“We’d better take him,” said Lawrence; “he’s not very big or old, but he seems intelligent enough, and no doubt knows something of his father’s haunts and sporting customs.”“You’s right, massa,” assented the negro.Lawrence made a sign to the lad to embark, and Quashy backed the invitation with—“Jump aboord, Leetle Cub.”Instead of obeying, Leetle Cub ran up into the bush, but presently returned with a long stick like a headless lance, a bow and arrows, and an instrument resembling a large grappling anchor, made of wood. Placing these softly in the canoe, the little fellow, who seemed to be about ten years of age, stepped in, and they all pushed off into the river—getting out of sight of the hut without having roused any one. Turning into the same stream which they had visited the day before, they pushed past the place where the jaguar had been killed, and entered on an exploration, as Lawrence called it.“I’m very fond of an exploration, Quashy,” he said, dipping his paddle softly, and working gently, for there was so little current that it seemed more like the narrows of a lake than a stream.“Yes, I’s bery fond ob ’sploration too, massa,” replied the negro, with a self-satisfied nod. “It am so nice not to know whar you’s gwine to, or whar you’s comin’ to, or who’s dar, or who’s not dar, or what fish’ll turn up, or what beast’ll turn down, or what nixt—oh! itamso jolly! what you sniggerin’ at, you dirty leetle cub?”The question was put to the Indian boy, who seemed much amused by something he saw up among the trees.Looking up they saw at least a dozen red monkeys grinning at them, and one of these—a small one—was hanging on by its father’s tail.“Oh! shoot! shoot!” cried Quashy to Lawrence, opening his great eyes eagerly. “Dey’ssogood to eat!”“No, Quash, I won’t shoot. We have shot enough of fat ducks to feed us all for one or two days at least. Besides, I can’t bear to kill monkeys. It feels so like committing murder.”While he was yet speaking, Leetle Cub had taken up the long lance-like stick before mentioned and pointed it at the monkeys. It was a blow-pipe. Before Lawrence could interfere, the short arrow with which it was charged had sped on its mission with deadly aim, and the smallest monkey, relaxing its hold of the paternal tail, fell without even a cry into the water—shot through the heart.Lawrence said nothing, but, resolving that if the boy should attempt such another shot, he would disturb his aim, he dipped his paddle vigorously, and pushed up the river.Coming at last to an open space where the stream widened into something like a little pond, they observed an erection of timber on the bank which aroused their curiosity. It also seemed to arouse the Cub’s interest, for he made somewhat excited signs that he wished to land there. Willing to humour him, they ran the canoe on the beach. Leetle Cub jumped out at once, and, taking up the anchor-like piece of wood before mentioned, went with it towards the timber erection.“I do believe it is an alligator-hook,” said Lawrence.“Das a fact,” said Quashy, “we’ll washum,” (by which he meant, “we’ll watch him!”)It was indeed interesting to watch that little fellow—who was evidently in all respects a thorough chip of the old block—as he went about his work, quietly, yet with an undercurrent of excitement which he was not entirely able to conceal. He took his bow and arrows, as well as the blow-pipe, on shore, and laid them at his side, so as to be ready at hand in case of emergency, while he baited the alligator-hook with the dead monkey.The hook was simple. It consisted of four pieces of tough hard wood, about a foot long, and the thickness of a man’s thumb. These were tied to the end of a stout rope made of raw hide, and so arranged that their points were directed backwards, and curved somewhat outwards—thus forming as it were four huge barbs. The dead monkey was placed on and around this horrible hook—if we may so term it. The delicate morsel was then attached to the end of a pole which stretched over the stream, so that the bait, when fixed, remained suspended just above the water. The slack of the rope was then made fast to a tree. Thus the arrangement was such as to compel the alligator to raise himself well out of the water to obtain his mouthful.While Leetle Cub was engaged in erecting this cumbrous machine, a young alligator, about a foot long, crawled out from under some leaves on the bank close to him. The urchin saw it instantly, seized his bow, and in a moment transfixed it with an arrow. The fury of the little creature, infant though it was, seemed tremendous. It turned round, snapping viciously at the arrow, and would probably have escaped with it into the water if another shot from the same unerring hand had not terminated its career.After setting his line, the Cub carried the little alligator to the canoe, and put it carefully therein.“Das what dey make de soup ob,” said Quashy.“The ragout, you mean.”“Dun’ know what’s a ragoo, massa. We calls it soup. Anyhow, it’s bery good.”“Yes, Quash, it’s not bad. But look there, our daring and expert young hunter evidently wants us to land, for he is pointing to the bush. Shall we go?”“P’r’aps it’s as well, massa. Ob course no alligator’s sitch a fool as swaller dat little mout’ful when we’s a-lookin’ at it. I s’pose Leetle Cub wants us to go away, an’ gib ’em a chance.”Having made up their minds to gratify the little fellow, they landed and accompanied him into the woods. He seemed quite to expect that they would do so and follow his lead. He set off at a smart pace in advance of them, carrying his bow on his shoulder. Lawrence was well repaid by this walk, because it led him into and through scenery of a more striking and beautiful character than he had yet seen of its kind. In many places the trees formed long aisles and vaulted colonnades and arches so regular that it seemed as though they had been planted by the hand of man. Elsewhere the chaos of tree and shrub, flower and fern and twining root was so indescribable, that it seemed as if chance and haphazard had originated it all; but the mind of our hero was cast, if we may say so, in too logical a mould to accept such an absurd origin for anything.“My Father made it all,” he said, mentally, with a glow of enthusiasm; “and although, like a little child gazing at an intricate machine, I see not the order or arrangement, certain am I that bothmustbe there.”Between the tree-stems they saw ant-hills fully five or six feet high. From the trees hung thousands of orchids of various colours, and so attractive was the aspect of things overhead, that Lawrence was more than once tripped up by the long tangled grasses through which, in some parts, they had to push their way. Of course, there were plenty of parrots and monkeys and other creatures to make the forest lively. Indeed, in some parts there seemed a prospect of its becoming still more lively, for their little guide pointed out in soft places the footprints of tapirs and jaguars, which seemed to be quite fresh. Lizards innumerable crossed their path at every point; snakes were seen gliding out of their way—a fortunate tendency on the part of most snakes!—and the woods resounded with the singing of the yapu, a bird something like a blackbird, with yellow tips to its wings, and somewhat like the mocking-bird in that it imitated every other bird in the forest. Whether there is jealousy between the yapu and the parrot we have not been able to ascertain, but if birds are like men in their sentiments, we fear it is more than probable. Unlike man, however, the yapu prefers to sing upside-down, swinging the while from the branch of a tree, and ruffling its plumage.“Hallo! massa. Look dar!” said Quashy, pointing with intense surprise at a neighbouring tree-stem. “Did you ebber see a crab climbin’ up a tree?”“I certainly never did,” replied Lawrence, as he looked in the direction indicated, where he saw, not a crab indeed, but a monstrous hairy spider as large as a goodly-sized crab. Stepping forward to examine the creature, he was surprised to have his hat twitched off his head, and found that it was the web of the said spider which had done it! Afterwards he learned that the spider in question subsists by catching little birds, and that its bite is not so venomous as that of a smaller kind which abounds in the woods there. Not being desirous of testing the creature’s power in that way at the time, he contented himself with inspecting it, and listening to a learned dissertation on spiders in general from Quashy, as he afterwards walked on.Good fortune seemed to smile on them that day, for they had not advanced a hundred yards further when two large jaguars crossed their path. It is probable that they did not see the hunters, for they did not look up, but, gliding cat-like into the jungle, quickly disappeared.Perhaps it was fortunate that Lawrence and his man recovered their presence of mind when too late, for if they had fired hastily and only wounded the creatures, it might have brought to an abrupt end their terrestrial career. As it was. Quashy recovered with a gasp, drew his two double-barrelled pistols, which in his eagerness he neglected to cock, and, with one in each hand, rushed yelling after the jaguars. Lawrence cocked his gun and followed at a smart, though more sedate, pace. Leetle Cub, who probably thought them both fools, ran after them with a broad grin on his dingy countenance.We need scarcely say that the pursuit was useless. Quashy returned in a few minutes with labouring breath, and streaming at every pore. Lawrence, scarcely less blown, sat down on a fallen tree and laughed when his lungs permitted. Of course he was joined by the sympathetic black, echoed by the small boy, and imitated—not badly—by a number of parrots which wisely availed themselves of the rare opportunity to learn a lesson from man!As they advanced the path became more encumbered and difficult to traverse, so they determined to return. Their little guide, however, seemed to object very strongly, and made wonderful gesticulations in his efforts to induce them to go on. Lawrence, however, remained firm. Seeing at last that his followers had determined to rebel, the Cub gave up trying to influence them, scooped a quantity of wild honey out of a hole in a tree, and, sitting down in a half-sulky mood, sought to console himself by eating the same.“Come, we’ll follow you in that, at all events,” said Lawrence, seating himself beside the child and regaling himself with the sweet food. Quashy followed his example with right good-will.When their modest meal was over they returned to the river. The little boy, on nearing it, ran anxiously forward in advance, and soon they perceived by his frantic gesticulations and shouts that something of interest awaited them there.“He’s cotched!” cried Quashy, and darted off as if shot from a catapult.Lawrence followed, using his long legs to such advantage that he was not far behind his man; for although gifted with greater powers of self-restraint than Quashy, our hero was not a whit behind him in strong enthusiasm.They found that an alligator—not, indeed, of the largest size, but nevertheless about six or seven feet long—had swallowed the monkey, and was tugging at the rope like a mad thing—turning round and round in its rage, and smacking the water with its resounding tail.Instantly they all laid hold of the rope, and began to drag it towards the bank.“How shall we manage to kill it?” said Lawrence, as the monster came close in.“Stick ’im! shot ’im! hang ’im. Nebber mind dat. Git ’im fust,—kill ’im arter,” gasped the negro, as he strained at the rope, ably seconded by his comrades.It was a hard tussle, and might have been unsuccessful if Lawrence and Quashy had not possessed more than average physical strength. As it was, they pulled the monstrous animal just near enough to get his head clear of the water, and then, putting several balls into him, killed him outright.“Plenty ragoo now, massa!” exclaimed the negro, with a broad grin, after they had stowed the carcass in the canoe.“Yes, Quash, more than enough.”Leetle Cub seemed to have his mind running in the same direction, for he eyed the alligator with longing looks, and licked his lips expressively as they re-entered the canoe, shoved off, and directed the bow homeward.
“Dar, massa, dar he is,” exclaimed Quashy, in a hoarse whisper, pointing into the bushes.
“Nonsense, man,” replied Lawrence, in a low voice, “it’s only an ant-hill.”
Even in that moment of excitement, Lawrence could scarce refrain from laughter at the face of his humble follower, for Quashy’s business in life had not accustomed him to much sport at any time; and the prospect of actually assisting at the slaughter of a jaguar or a puma had stirred every nerve and fibre of his black being into intense excitation, so that his eyes and nostrils were dilated to the utmost, and he panted vehemently—with hope, of course, not fear!
Tiger, on the contrary, was cool and calm, though watchful. He paid no attention whatever to his companions, being too well acquainted with his work to stand in need of either advice or assistance from them.
As guide, the savage occupied the bow of the canoe; Lawrence sat in the middle, and Quashy in the stern, for he understood how to steer. Having been admonished to hold his tongue, he crouched so as, if possible, to diminish his size. He also pursed his lips,—and what a tight rounding and projecting of superfluous flesh that pursing was no tongue can adequately tell. He also glared, and this “talking with the eyes” was a mute sermon in itself.
Yet no jaguar could be seen. Silently, with dip of paddle that made no sound, and glide of craft through the water that produced only an oily ripple, they slowly ascended the stream.
At first Lawrence had seized his fowling-piece, which was charged with ball for the occasion; but as time passed, and the Indian showed no intention of landing, he laid the gun down, and again took up his paddle.
After a time, through some inadvertence of Quashy, the canoe was sent rather close in among the reeds and giant leaves of the bank.
“That was stupid of you, Quash,” said Lawrence, as he stood up to assist Tiger in backing out.
“Das true, massa,” said the negro, in profoundest humility of self-condemnation, “I’s a black idjit.”
As the fore part of the canoe had touched on a mudbank, Lawrence seized one of the Indian’s lances, and used the butt end as a pole with which to push off. Under this impulse the canoe was gradually sliding into deep water, when a rustling of the leaves was heard, and next instant a full-sized jaguar sprang upon the Indian with cat-like agility. Whether the brute had slipped on the muddy bank we cannot say, but it missed its aim, and, instead of alighting on the shoulders of the man, it merely struck him on the head with one of its paws in passing, and went with a tremendous splash into the water.
Tiger fell forward insensible from the severe scalp-wound inflicted. Next instant the jaguar rose, grasped the edge of the canoe, and almost overturned it as it strove to climb in; and there is no doubt that in another moment it would have succeeded, for the attack was so sudden that Quashy sat paralysed, while Lawrence forgot his pistols, and his gun lay in the bottom of the canoe! Happily, however, he recovered enough of presence of mind to use the lance in his hands. Turning the point of the weapon to the jaguar’s mouth, he thrust it in with such tremendous force that it passed right down its throat and into its very vitals. With a gasping snarl the monster fell back into the stream, and was quickly drowned as well as impaled.
“Help me to haul him on board,” cried Lawrence.
Thus awakened, the negro, relieving his feelings by giving vent to a roar which partook somewhat of a cheer, seized the jaguar’s tail. His master grasped its ears, and in another moment it lay in the bottom of the canoe.
“Now, help to lay the poor fellow beside it,” said Lawrence.
“O massa!—he not dead, eh?” groaned the negro, as he assisted in the work.
“No; nor likely to die yet a while,” replied Lawrence, with much satisfaction, as he examined and bound up the scalp-wound. “It is not deep; he’ll soon come round; but we must get him home without delay. Out with your paddle, Quashy, and use it well. I’ll take the bow.”
The canoe, which, during these proceedings, had been floating slowly down stream, was now turned in the right direction, and in a short time was out upon the larger river.
Here, however, they had to labour with energy against the stream, and it was far on in the afternoon before they came in sight of the Indian’s hut. By that time Spotted Tiger had partially recovered, as Lawrence observed during a pause made for rest. On reaching an eddy, which carried the canoe in the right direction, they rested again. The cessation of paddling appeared to rouse the wounded man, for he sat up, and, with a half-dazed look, stared at the head of the dead jaguar, on the haunch of which his elbow leaned. Then he cast an inquiring look at Lawrence, who replied to him with a nod and a smile, and went on to indicate, by means of pantomime, what had occurred.
He pointed to the animal’s claws, and to Tiger’s head; then to the bloody spear which lay at his side, and to the jaguar’s blood-stained throat, after which he pointed to his own breast and nodded again.
The Indian evidently understood him, for an expression of gratitude overspread his countenance as he extended his right hand—English fashion—for a shake. Our hero was not slow to grasp it, and the two exchanged a squeeze which told of lasting friendship and good-will.
A few minutes later, and the canoe was run upon the bank in front of the hut, where all the children were assembled to receive them.
It did not seem as if any of the family were deeply affected by the shaky appearance of the father as he stepped on shore, but the younger members evinced feelings of intense delight when the jaguar was lifted out; and two of them, seizing the tail as a tow-rope, passed it over their shoulders, and dragged the carcass up to the hut to show it to their mother.
O mothers! loving repositories of childhood’s joys and woes, ye are unquestionably the same in substance and in spirit all the world over!
Tiger’s wife was more affected than Lawrence expected she would have been by her husband’s accident, and tended him with anxious care. By taking hold of him, and laying him gently down in a corner opposite to that of his sick child, Lawrence gave him to understand that it was his duty to take rest. To say truth, he did not require much persuasion, but at once laid his head on his pillow, and quietly went to sleep.
“The hospital is filling rather quickly, Manuela,” said Lawrence, when he had finished tending his new patient, “and your duties are increasing, I fear.”
“No fear. Me likes to nuss,” replied the girl, with a look that puzzled the young doctor.
It was Manuela’s fascinating smile that came hardest on our poor hero. When she looked grave or sad, he could regard her as a mere statue, an unusually classical-looking bronze savage; but when she smiled, there was something so bewitchingly sweet in the lines of her little face that he felt constrained to shut his eyes, turn away, and groan in spirit, to think that she was brown, and a savage!
“Was thereevera case,” he thought, “so mysteriously miserable, so singularly sad, as mine! If she were only white, I would marry her at once, (if she would have me), for the sake of her gentle spirit alone,—ay, even though she were the child of a costermonger; but I cannot, Idonot, love a savage, the daughter of a savage chief, with a skin the colour of shoe leather! No, it is impossible! and yet, I am in love with her spirit. I know it. I feel it. I never heard of such a strange thing before,—a man in love with a portion of a woman, and that the immaterial portion!”
The last word changed the current of his thoughts, for it suggested the idea of another “portion” belonging to some girls with which men are too apt to fall in love!
“Massa, de grub’s ready,” said Quashy, entering the hut at that moment.
“Go to work then, Quash. Don’t wait. I’ll be with you directly.”
But Quashy did wait. He was much too unselfish a son of ebony to think of beginning before his master.
When they had seated themselves on the grass outside the hut, along with Manuela, who left her post of duty in order to dine, and had made a considerable impression on the alligator-ragout and tiger-steaks and other delicacies, Quashy heaved a deep sigh of partial satisfaction, and asked if Tiger would be well enough to go out hunting next day.
“I think not,” said Lawrence; “no doubt he mayfeelable for it, but if he shows any disposition to do so, I shall forbid him.”
“How you forbid him, when you not can speak hims tongue?” asked Manuela, in a mild little voice, but with an arch look to which her arched black eyebrows gave intense expression.
“Well,” replied Lawrence, laughing, “I must try signs, I suppose, as usual.”
“No use, massa,” said Quashy; “nebber make him understan’. I gib you a plan. See here. You tie him up hand an’ foot; den we go off huntin’ by our lone, an’ let him lie till we comes back.”
Lawrence shook his head. “I fear he would kill us on our return. No, we must just go off early in the morning before he wakes, and get Manuela to try her hand at sign-language. She can prevail on him, no doubt, to remain at home.”
“I vill try,” said Manuela, with a laugh.
In pursuance of this plan, Lawrence and Quashy rose before broad daylight the following morning, launched the little canoe they had used the day before, put gun, spears, etcetera, on board, and were about to push off, when one of the boys of the family ran down, and seemed to wish to accompany them.
“We’d better take him,” said Lawrence; “he’s not very big or old, but he seems intelligent enough, and no doubt knows something of his father’s haunts and sporting customs.”
“You’s right, massa,” assented the negro.
Lawrence made a sign to the lad to embark, and Quashy backed the invitation with—
“Jump aboord, Leetle Cub.”
Instead of obeying, Leetle Cub ran up into the bush, but presently returned with a long stick like a headless lance, a bow and arrows, and an instrument resembling a large grappling anchor, made of wood. Placing these softly in the canoe, the little fellow, who seemed to be about ten years of age, stepped in, and they all pushed off into the river—getting out of sight of the hut without having roused any one. Turning into the same stream which they had visited the day before, they pushed past the place where the jaguar had been killed, and entered on an exploration, as Lawrence called it.
“I’m very fond of an exploration, Quashy,” he said, dipping his paddle softly, and working gently, for there was so little current that it seemed more like the narrows of a lake than a stream.
“Yes, I’s bery fond ob ’sploration too, massa,” replied the negro, with a self-satisfied nod. “It am so nice not to know whar you’s gwine to, or whar you’s comin’ to, or who’s dar, or who’s not dar, or what fish’ll turn up, or what beast’ll turn down, or what nixt—oh! itamso jolly! what you sniggerin’ at, you dirty leetle cub?”
The question was put to the Indian boy, who seemed much amused by something he saw up among the trees.
Looking up they saw at least a dozen red monkeys grinning at them, and one of these—a small one—was hanging on by its father’s tail.
“Oh! shoot! shoot!” cried Quashy to Lawrence, opening his great eyes eagerly. “Dey’ssogood to eat!”
“No, Quash, I won’t shoot. We have shot enough of fat ducks to feed us all for one or two days at least. Besides, I can’t bear to kill monkeys. It feels so like committing murder.”
While he was yet speaking, Leetle Cub had taken up the long lance-like stick before mentioned and pointed it at the monkeys. It was a blow-pipe. Before Lawrence could interfere, the short arrow with which it was charged had sped on its mission with deadly aim, and the smallest monkey, relaxing its hold of the paternal tail, fell without even a cry into the water—shot through the heart.
Lawrence said nothing, but, resolving that if the boy should attempt such another shot, he would disturb his aim, he dipped his paddle vigorously, and pushed up the river.
Coming at last to an open space where the stream widened into something like a little pond, they observed an erection of timber on the bank which aroused their curiosity. It also seemed to arouse the Cub’s interest, for he made somewhat excited signs that he wished to land there. Willing to humour him, they ran the canoe on the beach. Leetle Cub jumped out at once, and, taking up the anchor-like piece of wood before mentioned, went with it towards the timber erection.
“I do believe it is an alligator-hook,” said Lawrence.
“Das a fact,” said Quashy, “we’ll washum,” (by which he meant, “we’ll watch him!”)
It was indeed interesting to watch that little fellow—who was evidently in all respects a thorough chip of the old block—as he went about his work, quietly, yet with an undercurrent of excitement which he was not entirely able to conceal. He took his bow and arrows, as well as the blow-pipe, on shore, and laid them at his side, so as to be ready at hand in case of emergency, while he baited the alligator-hook with the dead monkey.
The hook was simple. It consisted of four pieces of tough hard wood, about a foot long, and the thickness of a man’s thumb. These were tied to the end of a stout rope made of raw hide, and so arranged that their points were directed backwards, and curved somewhat outwards—thus forming as it were four huge barbs. The dead monkey was placed on and around this horrible hook—if we may so term it. The delicate morsel was then attached to the end of a pole which stretched over the stream, so that the bait, when fixed, remained suspended just above the water. The slack of the rope was then made fast to a tree. Thus the arrangement was such as to compel the alligator to raise himself well out of the water to obtain his mouthful.
While Leetle Cub was engaged in erecting this cumbrous machine, a young alligator, about a foot long, crawled out from under some leaves on the bank close to him. The urchin saw it instantly, seized his bow, and in a moment transfixed it with an arrow. The fury of the little creature, infant though it was, seemed tremendous. It turned round, snapping viciously at the arrow, and would probably have escaped with it into the water if another shot from the same unerring hand had not terminated its career.
After setting his line, the Cub carried the little alligator to the canoe, and put it carefully therein.
“Das what dey make de soup ob,” said Quashy.
“The ragout, you mean.”
“Dun’ know what’s a ragoo, massa. We calls it soup. Anyhow, it’s bery good.”
“Yes, Quash, it’s not bad. But look there, our daring and expert young hunter evidently wants us to land, for he is pointing to the bush. Shall we go?”
“P’r’aps it’s as well, massa. Ob course no alligator’s sitch a fool as swaller dat little mout’ful when we’s a-lookin’ at it. I s’pose Leetle Cub wants us to go away, an’ gib ’em a chance.”
Having made up their minds to gratify the little fellow, they landed and accompanied him into the woods. He seemed quite to expect that they would do so and follow his lead. He set off at a smart pace in advance of them, carrying his bow on his shoulder. Lawrence was well repaid by this walk, because it led him into and through scenery of a more striking and beautiful character than he had yet seen of its kind. In many places the trees formed long aisles and vaulted colonnades and arches so regular that it seemed as though they had been planted by the hand of man. Elsewhere the chaos of tree and shrub, flower and fern and twining root was so indescribable, that it seemed as if chance and haphazard had originated it all; but the mind of our hero was cast, if we may say so, in too logical a mould to accept such an absurd origin for anything.
“My Father made it all,” he said, mentally, with a glow of enthusiasm; “and although, like a little child gazing at an intricate machine, I see not the order or arrangement, certain am I that bothmustbe there.”
Between the tree-stems they saw ant-hills fully five or six feet high. From the trees hung thousands of orchids of various colours, and so attractive was the aspect of things overhead, that Lawrence was more than once tripped up by the long tangled grasses through which, in some parts, they had to push their way. Of course, there were plenty of parrots and monkeys and other creatures to make the forest lively. Indeed, in some parts there seemed a prospect of its becoming still more lively, for their little guide pointed out in soft places the footprints of tapirs and jaguars, which seemed to be quite fresh. Lizards innumerable crossed their path at every point; snakes were seen gliding out of their way—a fortunate tendency on the part of most snakes!—and the woods resounded with the singing of the yapu, a bird something like a blackbird, with yellow tips to its wings, and somewhat like the mocking-bird in that it imitated every other bird in the forest. Whether there is jealousy between the yapu and the parrot we have not been able to ascertain, but if birds are like men in their sentiments, we fear it is more than probable. Unlike man, however, the yapu prefers to sing upside-down, swinging the while from the branch of a tree, and ruffling its plumage.
“Hallo! massa. Look dar!” said Quashy, pointing with intense surprise at a neighbouring tree-stem. “Did you ebber see a crab climbin’ up a tree?”
“I certainly never did,” replied Lawrence, as he looked in the direction indicated, where he saw, not a crab indeed, but a monstrous hairy spider as large as a goodly-sized crab. Stepping forward to examine the creature, he was surprised to have his hat twitched off his head, and found that it was the web of the said spider which had done it! Afterwards he learned that the spider in question subsists by catching little birds, and that its bite is not so venomous as that of a smaller kind which abounds in the woods there. Not being desirous of testing the creature’s power in that way at the time, he contented himself with inspecting it, and listening to a learned dissertation on spiders in general from Quashy, as he afterwards walked on.
Good fortune seemed to smile on them that day, for they had not advanced a hundred yards further when two large jaguars crossed their path. It is probable that they did not see the hunters, for they did not look up, but, gliding cat-like into the jungle, quickly disappeared.
Perhaps it was fortunate that Lawrence and his man recovered their presence of mind when too late, for if they had fired hastily and only wounded the creatures, it might have brought to an abrupt end their terrestrial career. As it was. Quashy recovered with a gasp, drew his two double-barrelled pistols, which in his eagerness he neglected to cock, and, with one in each hand, rushed yelling after the jaguars. Lawrence cocked his gun and followed at a smart, though more sedate, pace. Leetle Cub, who probably thought them both fools, ran after them with a broad grin on his dingy countenance.
We need scarcely say that the pursuit was useless. Quashy returned in a few minutes with labouring breath, and streaming at every pore. Lawrence, scarcely less blown, sat down on a fallen tree and laughed when his lungs permitted. Of course he was joined by the sympathetic black, echoed by the small boy, and imitated—not badly—by a number of parrots which wisely availed themselves of the rare opportunity to learn a lesson from man!
As they advanced the path became more encumbered and difficult to traverse, so they determined to return. Their little guide, however, seemed to object very strongly, and made wonderful gesticulations in his efforts to induce them to go on. Lawrence, however, remained firm. Seeing at last that his followers had determined to rebel, the Cub gave up trying to influence them, scooped a quantity of wild honey out of a hole in a tree, and, sitting down in a half-sulky mood, sought to console himself by eating the same.
“Come, we’ll follow you in that, at all events,” said Lawrence, seating himself beside the child and regaling himself with the sweet food. Quashy followed his example with right good-will.
When their modest meal was over they returned to the river. The little boy, on nearing it, ran anxiously forward in advance, and soon they perceived by his frantic gesticulations and shouts that something of interest awaited them there.
“He’s cotched!” cried Quashy, and darted off as if shot from a catapult.
Lawrence followed, using his long legs to such advantage that he was not far behind his man; for although gifted with greater powers of self-restraint than Quashy, our hero was not a whit behind him in strong enthusiasm.
They found that an alligator—not, indeed, of the largest size, but nevertheless about six or seven feet long—had swallowed the monkey, and was tugging at the rope like a mad thing—turning round and round in its rage, and smacking the water with its resounding tail.
Instantly they all laid hold of the rope, and began to drag it towards the bank.
“How shall we manage to kill it?” said Lawrence, as the monster came close in.
“Stick ’im! shot ’im! hang ’im. Nebber mind dat. Git ’im fust,—kill ’im arter,” gasped the negro, as he strained at the rope, ably seconded by his comrades.
It was a hard tussle, and might have been unsuccessful if Lawrence and Quashy had not possessed more than average physical strength. As it was, they pulled the monstrous animal just near enough to get his head clear of the water, and then, putting several balls into him, killed him outright.
“Plenty ragoo now, massa!” exclaimed the negro, with a broad grin, after they had stowed the carcass in the canoe.
“Yes, Quash, more than enough.”
Leetle Cub seemed to have his mind running in the same direction, for he eyed the alligator with longing looks, and licked his lips expressively as they re-entered the canoe, shoved off, and directed the bow homeward.